


Worth Saving

by Bet_on_black



Series: Worth Saving [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Hermione Granger, BAMF Narcissa Black Malfoy, Bellatrix Lestrange is Kind Of There, Cissamione, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, F/F, Gratuitous usage of MILF, Rating May Change, Ron Weasley Bashing, Slow Burn, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:47:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 79,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24934744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bet_on_black/pseuds/Bet_on_black
Summary: Narcissa Malfoy has been under house arrest since the end of the Second Wizarding War. She's bound by more than the constraints of the Ministry of Magic.Hermione Granger works in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, not as an Auror like Harry and Ron, but as a Magical Restitution Officer. When Hermione decides to take on Narcissa in a programme of Magical Restitution the wizarding world is once more plunged into darkness. Is Narcissa Malfoy worth saving?
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Narcissa Black Malfoy
Series: Worth Saving [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1938409
Comments: 416
Kudos: 818





	1. Black Manor

**Author's Note:**

> So uh, hey. I wrote a thing. It's been years since I last wrote fanfiction but I decided I'd give it another shot! I've totally fallen for the Cissamione ship so here's my attempt at it.
> 
> All comments welcome and you know, feel free to let me know thoughts and all.
> 
> Bet_on_Black
> 
> ***EDITS TO TAGS 28.06.2020***

Emerald green robes flowed off of Narcissa Black like water as she took her time in answering the door. She didn’t get many visitors, if any, so it was with some trepidation that she approached the door in the first place. She paused before the heavy oak door, summoning the energy to bring herself into the pureblood pose expected of the outside world, before flicking her wand at the door.

Sunlight poured into the dark manor house, blinding her for a moment so that she couldn’t immediately identify the figure at her door. She blinked a few times until her eyes adjusted to the dramatic change in light. As soon as she could see properly she recognised the figure and made to close the door at once. Her attempt was halted by a swish of the figure’s wand and she found herself backing up into the hall as they advanced into the house. She grappled for her wand to defend herself but found it was as useless as a twig to her now. _Slytherin blast these infernal wards!_ She cursed inwardly. The moment she had opened the door the Ministry of Magic imposed wards had activated, effectively disarming her in her own home. She stumbled backwards until her back was against the banister of the grand staircase. A thousand thoughts raced through her head all at once, most of them now useless defensive spells, her mind grappling for anything that might help her. When nothing obvious came to mind she found herself left with one option left - surrender. She stopped trying to scramble away and found herself kneeling in front of the intruder, wand discarded at her opponent’s feet, eyes wide and begging for mercy.

The interloper gave a swish of their wand and the door closed behind them, plunging the pair into the murky darkness of the manor. A few steps closer and Narcissa was sure this was how it would end. She screwed up her eyes, praying that it would be quick.

“Oh for heaven’s sake!” an exasperated voice rang out through the hall. Narcissa felt a hand wrap around her arm and pull her gently to her feet. She cracked one eye open slowly and then the other when it appeared that she would not yet meet her end. Her eyes, so accustomed to the dimly lit hallways of the manor, were met by a pair of concerned looking brown eyes.

“Mrs Malfoy,” the witch before her enquired, “are you alright?”

She most certainly was not. But she couldn’t get herself to say those words, instead she blurted out “Black!”

She took in a number of deep, shuddering breaths, trying to calm herself enough to speak somewhat normally. “It’s _Black_ these days.”

For some bizarre reason the witch, who was still gripping Narcissa’s arm, frowned at that before continuing, “My apologies _Ms Black_. Are you alright? I appear to have startled you there!” she gave a small smile and then noticed her hand on Narcissa’s arm still. She hastily released her, hand dropping down to swing idly at her side instead.

“Startled?” Narcissa nearly stuttered over the word, staring aghast as Hermione Granger grinned awkwardly at her. “You broke into my home and these infernal wards disarmed me! Of course I was bloody startled!” Her voice was clearer now and she was regaining some of pureblood poise now that the door was shut. This was her house after all. She may not be able to cast with this interloper in front of her but she could at least act like it. She was a Black, dammit. Blacks do not cower in the face of danger.

Hermione’s grin faded at those words, her face taking on a more serious expression as she replied. “Broke into your house?” She raised an eyebrow. “Ms Black, I knocked and you opened the door. That’s hardly breaking and entering.”

“It’s close enough.” Narcissa bristled before continuing. “What do you want, Mud-" she flinched and clenched her fist. " _Ms Granger_?”

The effort it took not to say the slur was evident on Narcissa’s face. Her lips twitched and her eyes narrowed at the sharp jolt to her temple. The wards. Again. Could she do nothing as she pleased in this house?

The fact that Narcissa had almost called her a Mudblood hadn’t passed Hermione by. But after all these years of having the term slung at her with as much venom as a king cobra it hardly bothered her. She observed the seething woman in front of her and felt a strange knot of pity forming in her stomach. For all her indignant outrage and attempts to insult her, Hermione felt sorry for the bonds placed on Narcissa Black by the wards of the house. To not be able to defend yourself in your own home must feel terrifying. Still, she didn’t quite know why her appearance had brought about the fear in Narcissa that she would attack her. She would need to gain this woman’s trust before proceeding any further, that much was clear.

Hermione held up her hands, her wand still in her left hand from casting at the door, in a motion of surrender. “My apologies Ms Black. I hadn’t thought that the wards would prevent you from using magic entirely. And I certainly didn’t mean to alarm you by turning up unannounced.”

Narcissa scoffed. _Didn’t mean to alarm her, indeed…_

“But I have a proposition for you, if you’ll hear me out?” Hermione continued, slowly lowering herself to the ground and placing her wand next to Narcissa’s own.

What was the girl doing? Narcissa pondered. Was this meant to be some sign that they were on an equal footing? She could laugh at that. After all that had transpired throughout the war and after she would never be on the same level as Hermione 'Golden Girl' Granger. Wand or no wand, Ms Granger still held the upper hand. She was protected by the Ministry whereas Narcissa was imprisoned and effectively handicapped by them. Nothing was equal here.

“It would appear I have no choice in the matter Ms Granger” Narcissa replied, eyeing up the other witch’s wand on the floor suspiciously. “Surrender your wand all you want. It doesn’t make us equals.” She promptly turned on her heel and disappeared down the dim corridor, leaving a confused Hermione in her wake.

When Ms Granger didn’t follow her she called back along the hall. “If you wish to talk I suggest we do so in a room that actually has chairs, Ms Granger. Surely the Ministry hasn’t become _that_ uncivilised?”

Understanding flooded Hermione’s mind. Narcissa didn’t want to have this conversation in the hall. Of course! She could have kicked herself for thinking so. She had been so baffled by the thought that Narcissa somehow thought Hermione had the upper hand, even without a wand, that she hadn’t thought how idiotic it would be for a pureblood of any sort (least of all a Narcissa Mal- no, _Black_ ) to discuss matters of import in a hallway. She reached down and scooped up both their wands and jogged down the long corridor to catch up with Ms Black.

Narcissa led them deeper into the dark manor, following a well worn path past large doors with a fine layer of dust at their threshold. It was clear that many of these rooms hadn’t seen any use in years. She led them into a room on the left which was slightly brighter than the corridor outside, thought not by much. The curtains on the large windows were mostly drawn. Only a small shaft of light made its way through the gap in the curtains, illuminating perfectly two green leather wingback chairs which faced each other with a small coffee table in between. Narcissa sank resignedly into one of the chairs and motioned gracefully but lazily for Hermione to do the same in the other. 

Hermione had to perform a quickly whispered “Scourgify!” on the leather before sitting down as the seat was coated in a layer of dust much like that which lay outside the other rooms they had passed on their way here. It was clear that only the items used by Narcissa were kept in any kind of order. Hermione couldn’t really blame her she thought as she took the room in. The manor was huge. It would take an army of house elves to keep the place clean, she mused. However, she knew that Narcissa was not permitted to have any magical assistance here, which meant no house elves to assist in the basic up-keep on the place. Anything that was clean here was evidently kept so by the lady of the manor. As such, it gave Hermione a small thrill to note that the bookcases to the side of the room were kept immaculate, much like Narcissa’s chair. It would have saddened her deeply to see books left in a state of disrepair like the chair she sat on now. There was a spring trying to make it’s way loose under her but she tried not to wriggle too much in front of Narcissa’s imposing gaze.

Despite her earlier desperate pleading and tired facade, Narcissa could still glare like a pureblood noble. It made the hairs on Hermione’s arms and the back of her neck raise. Fallen from grace she may be, but she still knew how to make a witch feel small. She considered Hermione over the tops of her gently clasped fingers. Taking the Golden Girl in with her ice blue eyes. She hadn’t changed an awful lot since the last time she had seen her, Narcissa thought. Her hair was still a frightful state, frizzy and seemingly untameable. But the girl had clearly grown in other ways. Before, though she was clearly exhausted from being on the run for months on end, she had seemed so young and inexperienced. Now though it was clear that Ms Granger had gained a great deal of experience. There was a small white scar on her right temple and her steely gaze, which Narcissa tried to avoid, had hardened over the years. On top of that, there was a sense of power that now emanated from the woman in front of her and Narcissa could feel magic tingling in her finger-tips as she sat across from her.

Hermione shifted in her uncomfortable armchair, trying to meet Narcissa’s glare but failing as Narcissa’s eyes drifted across her. It had been quite some time since she had felt like she was being silently judged by someone; but it was clear that this was what Narcissa was doing as they sat in silence. After what felt like several hours of silence (although it couldn’t have been more than a minute) Narcissa sat back in her seat and gave a small cough to draw Hermione’s attention back to the matter at hand.

“Ms Granger, _delightful_ as this charming silence is” she said with a drawl, sounding much more like her former self, “I believe you had a proposition for me?” She raised a carefully curated eyebrow.

“Oh, yes!” Hermione responded, her voice flustered. How idiotic was she to enter the home of Narcissa Mal- Black, she corrected herself, and sit in painful silence with a woman who surely hated her?

“Well, Ms Granger? I know it may not seem like it but I _do_ actually have things I would like to be getting on with today.” Narcissa chided with a slight smirk on her face.

_Son of a bludger…_ Hermione thought. She’s enjoying this! She straightened up in her chair, feeling the spring dig further into her backside as she did so. “Yes, the proposition Mrs Mal- I mean, _Ms Black_ , is this. I’m not sure if you’re aware but I now work for the Department of Magical Restitution? It's a sub-department of Magical Law Enforcement. My duties focus on seeking appropriate repatriation on behalf of wizarding society from those who have harmed it.”

Narcissa inwardly seethed at that but kept her face a perfect mask of disinterest as she replied. “I see. And does the Ministry of Magic not think that by keeping me a prisoner in my own home and robbing me of my magic is not restitution enough for my _crimes_?” She said the last word delicately, as though she didn’t quite agree with the terminology.

Hermione tried to ignore the tone. “Well, yes, the wards here are intended to ensure that no harm befalls anyone who visits you. But I assure you Ms Black, you are not a prisoner here. You need only request that a member of the DMLE accompany you and you can visit the likes of Diagon Alley or anywhere you may need to to attend to your day to day needs.”

She was interrupted by a bitter laugh and a roll of Narcissa’s cold blue eyes. “Very amusing Ms Granger. But do you really think anyone from the DMLE would be willing to accompany a so-called _Dark Witch_ to do her shopping in public? You’d have more luck getting a Hungarian Horntail to wear a tutu.” she rested her chin on her hand and glared at the foolish girl in front of her. “I require auror level supervision, Ms Granger, I’m a _danger_ to society.” Again she used that tone where she didn’t sound like she believed the words she was using, like she was an actress reading from a script she was not invested in.

“No one in the DMLE has the courage to accompany me anywhere. Even if I wanted them to. So, as I said previously, I’m a prisoner in my own home.” she finished bitterly.

“I… I didn’t realise Ms Black… I can have someone look into that for you, if you like?” Hermione offered quietly. “Perhaps I can have Kingsley grant me the authority to-”

A harsh bark of a laugh came out of Narcissa, reminding Hermione for a split second of Narcissa’s cousin, Sirius. “Ah yes. The Golden Girl of Gryffindor taking the Sneaky Slithering Snake of Slytherin out to the shops. What a sight that would be!” she laughed bitterly again.”No. I don’t think that would do at all.”

“Suit yourself.” Hermione replied stiffly. Taken aback by Narcissa’s outburst. “Moving on then. I’m here to inform you of a programme that I’m starting which aims to aid in the healing of Wizarding Society and I’d like you to be the first participant.”

“No.” Narcissa replied simply before standing up and making her way to the door. “Ms Granger, I have no interest in being your guinea pig in these matters. I am doing my part by continuing to be held here.” She ran a hand through her blonde hair in frustration. “Now, I cannot of course force you out of my house. But I would very much like it if you would return my wand to me and leave. As I said earlier - I have things I would like to attend to.”

Hermione sat there dumbstruck at Narcissa’s outright refusal. _She didn’t even want to know what it would entail. She just said no!_ It was baffling. But then again, nothing about Narcissa Malfoy, or Black as she now insisted, had ever been simple. She placed Narcissa’s wand on the coffee table and rose to leave too.

As she passed Narcissa a thought struck her and, being the eternal Gryffindor that she was, blurted out. “Why do you insist on Black? Are you not still married to Mr Malfoy?”

For a moment Narcissa’s calm mask slipped and Hermione could see the rage and hurt beneath before the walls went up again.

“Do not” she hissed through clenched teeth “speak of that man again.”

Hermione would later wonder if she had accidentally cast a Confundus charm on herself as she replied. “But on your file it says you’re still known as Narcissa Malfoy. There’s no record of a divorce being filed..”

“How dare you” Narcissa seethed, her voice taking on a venomous tone. “Get out of my house, you filthy mud- AGHH! Just LEAVE!” she growled, clutching her forehead as though in pain.

Hermione finally came to her senses and hurried down the hall and out the large front door. She didn’t stop until she had passed the gates of the Manor where a young man with scruffy black hair and green eyes waited, leaning casually against the crumbling brick wall by the gate.

“That went well then?” Harry said, grinning at the sight of his best friend panting 

“Didn’t even hear me out.” Hermione gasped, bent over double from her exertion. “Thinks she’s being punished enough with house arrest. Still, at least she didn’t call me a mudblood. I think she wanted to a couple of times but she stopped herself.” She said, straightening up and facing a now bemused looking Harry.

Harry rubbed the back of his neck somewhat nervously. He knew Hermione wouldn’t like what he was about to say. “Uhm… She can’t.”

“Can’t what?” Hermione pushed some of her frazzled hair behind her ear as Harry shuffled awkwardly. “Harry, what can’t she do?”

Harry had the good grace to blush awkwardly. “She can’t call you that… that word. It’s part of the wards." He paused as if he wasn't sure if he should continue. "I, uh, I asked Kingsley for that one specifically.” he said somewhat sheepishly.

“Harry James Potter!”


	2. Free Speech

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well hey there folks. I didn't expect to get this many hits, kudos or comments in the first 24 hours/at all so thanks! You're all very lovely. 
> 
> Just thought I'd drop in to say I currently have another 3 chapters (after this one) written so I'll probably update once or twice a week whilst I write up new ones. I'm unashamed to say that this thing has kind of gotten away from me already so I'm predicting this will be a bit of a mammoth. There's something about this ship that just keeps the words coming.
> 
> Thank you so much for the encouragement to continue!

As soon as the door to the manner closed Narcissa sank to the floor, her magic rushing back to her in a dizzying whoosh. If she were the kind of woman to show emotion, and she wasn’t (not even on her own), she might have wept. The intense relief that washed over her was like a soothing balm on her throbbing temples. She had forgotten about that particular ward. She had seen it not long after her confinement to the manor. If she was going to be trapped in the building, she had thought, then she may as well know what the parameters of her ‘house arrest’ were.

Merlin, she hated that term. Sodding ‘house arrest’. 

Upon inspection of the wards in her first few days it became eminently clear to her that Black Manor was her own private Azkaban. 

Oh they thought they were being kind to her, those fools at the Ministry. 

There were no dementors, admittedly, and she could use magic to a degree. But all it took was for another to step foot on the property and her magic would be snuffed out like a candle. She couldn’t step outside without a member of the Ministry of Magic, Auror level or above, present. She had no assistance from her once loyal house elves. But what irked her beyond all else was the discovery of a speech monitoring ward. The Ministry could, and probably did, hear her every word spoken in the house. 

They could also prevent her from saying certain words at all. 

It had taken her a while to discern what the specific words were, the runes for the wards had been made deliberately complicated. But through trial and painful error she had figured it out. She would never again be permitted to say the words “Lord Voldemort” or “Morsmordre”. That baffled her somewhat. Why had they thought to censor the Dark Lord’s name and the incantation for the Dark Mark given that she herself had never actually been marked? It was strange, however she could see some kind of vague misguided logic behind it. But what was most peculiar of all, was that she was not permitted to say the word “mudblood.” She could think of at least 20 more foul words she could say but this one in particular she could not speak. She could roar herself hoarse with tirades about blood-traitors, snivelling squibs, and muggles themselves. But she could not even begin to utter the word “mudblood”. It seemed curiously specific to censor her in this fashion. Or it had until Hermione Granger had walked through her door.

Never in her darkest nightmares had she thought she would have to look into those swirling brown eyes again. The very sight of the witch had sent her into a deep panic, her mind ushering forth fragments from that night that she had tried desperately to forget. Once, after a particularly bad nightmare, she had tried to magically banish the memories from her head with a memory charm.

Alas, that too was something the wards would not permit. Narcissa’s imprisonment, though it looked reasonable and fair to an outsider at first, was specifically designed to torture her. Who needed dementors when she could never forget the source of her nightmares?

To have then sent the girl to her home with an invite to participate in a programme of magical restitution was endlessly cruel, Narcissa thought.

It was part of the reason she had snapped back negatively at the young witch. To participate in Hermione Granger’s programme would only be a further act of torture to Narcissa. To be forced to see the girl who’s screams filled her fitful dreams regularly would surely drive Narcissa to insanity.

She took a deep breath, tilting her head back until it rested on the wall of the drawing room. Her eyes closed and she tried to rid herself of the image of Ms Granger entering her home. Straining to think of anything but the way her eyes had looked at her with pity. Surely, Narcissa thought, the emotion should have been hate? Or perhaps fear? That’s what they had been like the last time she had properly made eye contact with the witch…

Oh Merlin, no. Not that memory. Anything but that! She sat forward abruptly and snapped her eyes open. She was in the drawing room of Black Manor. She was safe. Another deep breath as she tried to ignore how her body shivered at the memories. There was only one thing for it if she did not wish to visit that particular memory again this evening.

She pulled herself up from the dusty floor and collected her wand from the coffee table where Ms Granger had left it. Wordlessly she waved the wand and bottle of Ogden’s Firewhisky zoomed out from a hidden compartment at the side of the grand fireplace. It was accompanied by a single glass but she waved that away with a flick of her wand. Tonight was not a night for glasses.

With a muttered “ _ Incendio! _ ” a deep purple fire light itself in the grate. It didn’t fill the room with a great deal of light but the warmth it provided banished the chill of the manor enough to stop reminding Narcissa of dementors. She slumped into her wingback and pulled at the cork of the firewhisky with her teeth in what appeared to be a well practiced motion. The cork came out with a satisfying ‘pop’ and Narcissa deposited the cork on the coffee table with a lazy flick of her wrist. She titled the bottle back and felt the first burn of firewhisky hit the back of her throat. It stung harshly all the way down until it was smoldering in her empty stomach.

She hadn’t eaten since sometime last night. This morning’s owl post had brought confirmation of something she had already known but hadn’t wanted to admit. She had known for a long while that Draco would not return to Britain but the return of her last 4 letters, all unopened, had confirmed for her that her son no longer wanted anything to do with her. 

This, coupled with the intrusion of Ms Granger, made today a day to forget. She took another deep swallow from the bottle and gasped at the fire running through her. As she stared into the deep purple flames a single tear broke loose and ran down her cheek.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hermione stared into her butterbeer, watching the foam slowly disperse atop the golden liquid. 

Harry flopped down opposite her with two shot glasses filled to the brim with amber liquor and slid one across to Hermione. “Penny for them?” he said quietly.

She sat up a bit, her fingers curling around the proffered glass. She knocked it back quickly and gave a satisfied smack of her lips. Her gaze drifted from the now empty glass up to Harry and his concerned face.

“Why?” she asked, her eyes demanding more answers than the question itself as she stared at her best friend. “Why did you ask Kingsley for that ward, Harry?”

Harry was clearly uncomfortable with the question but Hermione was one of his oldest friends. They’d been through everything together. This wasn’t something he should have kept from her. “I’m sorry.” he started, his voice slightly shameful as he took the brunette in. “I should have told you about it. I should have asked if that would be okay.”

“You should.” Hermione agreed. “But that doesn’t answer the question of why. Why that ward?”

Harry rubbed the back of his neck with his hand again. “I… Hermione, we’ve been friends for years. I’ve heard you called that… that word… far too many times. I just, I dunno, I thought if there was one less person in the world saying it then it might make the world a better place for you.”

Hermione sighed. “Harry, you know it doesn’t mean anything to me. People only use that word because they’ve run out of ways to actually hurt me. It’s water off a duck’s back at this point. Just because someone doesn’t say the word doesn’t mean they don’t think it. Not saying the word won’t change their actual views.”

“I know, ‘Mione. I see that now.” 

“What happens when she tries to say it? I saw her flinch. Is it a tongue-tying curse or…?”

Harry had the decency to look even more embarrassed as he answered her, knowing that she wouldn’t like the answer. “She, uh, she feels pain. If she even attempts it she’ll get a sharp headache. The harder she tries the worse it will get…” he drifted off into silence at the look of anger that came across his friend’s face.

“Harry!” she hissed. “That’s barbaric! Who thought of that??” 

He ran a hand through his hair, making it even messier than usual. “I think Kingsley took a leaf out of Dolores’ book for that one.” he grumbled, clearly not happy about the methods used to enact his request. “Bit like a shock collar, you know? If she felt enough pain then eventually she’d stop doing it.”

“Oh Harry.” Hermione sighed and gave his hand a small squeeze to let him know she didn’t hate him. “I know that’s not what you had intended. But we’re going to have to speak to Kingsley about that ward.”

“What?” Harry raised an eyebrow at her. “What do you mean?”

“Harry, I can’t possibly let that ward stay in place. It’s unnecessarily cruel. I’ll never gain her trust enough to go on the programme if she can’t talk to me normally.”

“Hermione!” Harry interrupted. “Calling you that isn’t normal!”

She laughed lightly and gave his hand another squeeze. “Harry, you can’t fix the world single handedly, you know that? There will always be people out there who will think of muggleborns as mudbloods. We can educate as best we can but we can’t completely eradicate it. I won’t have someone tortured for expressing their beliefs. No matter how vulgar and outdated.”

Harry gave a tentative smile. “You’re too good a person, Hermione, you know that?”

Hermione took a sip of her Butterbeer to clear the taste of firewhisky and smiled. “Hardly. But I am going to need a meeting with Kingsley, asap.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Narcissa’s head was pounding when she awoke. The cold light of dawn had found its way in through the slight gap in the curtains to shine directly on her face. Her head throbbed painfully behind her eyes. It was like her brain was trying to force its way out through the front of her skull. She reached her hand out and fumbled clumsily for her wand on the nightstand. Her slim fingers curled around the wood and she flicked vaguely at the curtains.

Nothing happened.

She flicked her wand again. Still the curtains did not move. She gave out a groan. This was ridiculous. She hadn’t had to say an incantation for this in years. “ _ Epoximise! _ ” she groaned groggily. Again, nothing happened.

Her head pounded again and this time was accompanied by the sound of loud knocking. Each knock on the door sent a wave of nausea through Narcissa. Of course, she thought as she pulled herself shakily upright in her bed. Someone was trying to get her attention. And whoever that someone was, they had entered the house to do so. Her magic was rendered useless again by more Ministry morons. Whoever it was should think themselves lucky that she couldn’t hex them into next week for disturbing her this early.

She hastily wrapped a silk dressing gown around herself to hide the rumpled clothes she had fallen asleep in last night. With a quick check in the mirror to make sure her hair looked okay (thank goodness for magical grooming products) she made her way to the bedroom door. 

As she approached she realised that the knocking was in fact coming from the otherside of the bedroom door and not further in the house as she had previously assumed. Whoever this was, they would dearly wish they hadn’t disturbed Narcissa in her own bedchamber. 

With a low growl she wrenched the door open and was greeted by a loud squeak of shock and the sight of Hermione Granger jumping.

“Ms Granger” Narcissa whispered venomously. “Pray tell, what, are you doing knocking on my bedchamber door?”

Hermione had the good grace to look thoroughly embarrassed. What had she been thinking, coming up to this level of the manor? She flushed to her roots at the sight of Narcissa in an elaborately patterned pine green and silver robe. Did the woman ever not look elegant?

“Mrs M- Ms. Black” She stumbled and corrected herself. “I apologise for the intrusion. I had no idea this was your… your bedchamber” She blanched. She would never live it down at the Ministry if anyone heard of this, she was sure of it. 

“It’s just. You didn’t answer when I knocked on the door to the Manor…”

Narcissa scoffed and pulled her robe tighter round her. “Well then, Ms Granger, the polite thing to do when one doesn’t get an answer is to  _ go away _ . Not wander on in as you please anyway.”

Her tone was ice and it sent a chill down Hermione’s very soul.

“I’m sorry.” she apologised again. “But when you didn’t answer I was… I was…”

“Please don’t say you were worried about me Ms Granger.” Narcissa interrupted. “I think we both know how foolish a notion that concept would be.”

“But I was!” Hermione replied, genuine concern in her voice now. “Ms Black, the reason I came back here was exactly that. I was worried. I want to…” the look Narcissa was giving her, one of incredulity, threw her off her train of thought. “...help.” she finished lamely.

“How chivalrous of you, Ms Granger” Narcissa replied with the most graceful eye roll Hermione had ever seen. “But as you can plainly see,” she gestured to her dressing gown clad self. “I’m quite alright.”

“But you could be better, right?” Hermione said quickly, not allowing her brain time to tell her that was a stupid thing to say.

Narcissa didn’t immediately reply. Her cool gaze drifting over Hermione, never quite meeting her eyes, but clearly considering her. The young witch in front of her was every bit the Gryffindor she thought. Brave but bugger all brains to back it up. _ Well _ , a voice in her head chimed in,  _ she might have brains but she isn’t Slytherin smart _ . It took a fair bit of gall to enter the home of a well known ex-wife of a Death Eater. She’d give her that. But the witch almost shrank under Narcissa’s piercing gaze. It was good to know she still had some power, even if she was denied her magic for the time being. 

Hermione wasn’t like some of the other fools who had come round before, Narcissa noted. She came alone where the others had always travelled in pairs. Suited and booted in full ministry gear, as if they were expecting a battle to happen on the doorstep. So the very fact that Hermione was here and not dressed head to toe in tactical robes was something, she mused. Against her better judgement, Narcissa was inclined to give young Ms Granger the chance to explain herself. Just this once though, she assured herself, this would not be a repeat occurrence.

“Many things in my life could be better, Ms Granger. For one, we could be having this conversation in a more suitable location. Do you not recall that most civilised people tend to converse in rooms where there is seating available?”

Hermione nodded. Of course. Why did she keep trying to have serious conversations in corridors?

“I trust you can find your way back to the drawing room, Ms Granger? I will be down once I’m in more suitable attire.”

  
  


Ten minutes later Narcissa glided into the drawing room, this time in another set of emerald green robes. Hermione wondered if that’s all Narcissa owned, just a wardrobe full of emerald green robes in varying elegant styles. Hermione gave a wave of her wand and a china tea set appeared with a quiet ‘pop’. She smiled apologetically at Narcissa for the display of magic.

“I hope you don’t mind? I thought we could discuss matters over tea?”

The corner of Narcissa’s mouth twitched. If Hermione didn’t know any better she could swear that had been the very tentative beginnings of a smile.

“You’re learning, Ms Granger.” Narcissa replied. “Chairs  _ and _ tea. We may well make a civilised witch out of you yet.” The tone was cold still but there was a hint of amusement behind it all. 

Hermione set about pouring the tea for them; handing one of the blue cups and saucer to Narcissa before she took her own and retreated to the wingback and it’s unforgiving spring.

“Ms Black.” Hermione began, noting Narcissa surveying her carefully over the rim of the teacup. The witch’s gaze was like that of a hawk and Hermione found herself thinking that, if Narcissa presently had her magic, she could very easily fall prey to such a foe. 

“Ms Granger.” Narcissa’s cool voice interrupted her reverie. “Does speaking my very name render you silent? I thought we were here to talk.”

Hermione found her face flushing, horrified at her absent mindedness. “Ah, uh, not at all Ms Black. You’re right. We’re here to talk. My apologies.” She straightened up in the uncomfortable wingback and began again. “Ms Black, I realise that you don’t want to be my uh, how did you phrase it? ‘Guinea pig’ for the restitution programme. I can understand why you would not wish to participate -”

“I’m going to have to stop you there, Ms Granger.” Narcissa interrupted again, her voice stern with the finality of her wishes. “If you’re here to try and convince me again then you will find your efforts in vain. No amount of persuasion can be deployed here. My decision is final. I will not be a party to your programme.” 

Hermione, it seemed, had been expecting this. She replied, “Oh I know. That’s not why I’m here.”

And there it was again, a slight slip in the mask of Narcissa Black, hastily covered up again with a shield of ice. “Then what, pray tell, are you babbling on about?” Had Narcissa’s voice not been so quiet it would almost have been a snap. But Narcissa Black was far too controlled to snap.

“Well, I know that you don’t want to participate Ms Black. And I understand that. You have absolutely no reason to trust me.”

“Clever girl…” Narcissa muttered quietly, more to herself than to Hermione.

“So, that’s why I’m here.” Hermione leant forward in her chair, placed her cup and saucer on the table between them and pulled out her wand. Narcissa flinched ever so slightly but covered it up with a graceful sweep of her hand to rest at her chin. Hermione, bearing in mind how sensitive what she was proposing, pretended not to notice. Instead, she laid her wand down beside the tea things and directed her gaze towards Narcissa. She waited until Narcissa made hesitant eye contact, wanting Narcissa to see the truth of her next words as well as hear them.

“Ms Black, with your permission, I would like to lift some of the wards placed on your home.”

Silence. Earth shattering silence followed. Hermione gave it a beat or two before continuing.

“I became aware, following my last visit, that you have a number of quite frankly barbaric wards set up against you. I knew that the Ministry had set a number of provisions in place to protect the Wizarding community. But I had not been made aware of the additional unnecessary wards which set out only to punish you every day.”

Narcissa’s gaze dropped from her own, focusing instead on the tea in front of her. The truth that had shone out of the young witch’s eyes was startling to Narcissa. She didn’t think anyone had spoken so truthfully to her in years. It unnerved her. Part of her thought this was some kind of trap, that if she stepped into it she would be punished further by the Ministry. But she spoke the truth, she thought, she truly thinks some of the wards are barbaric… She took a quiet steadying breath and looked up again but did not meet the witch’s eyes.

“What, exactly, are you proposing? Which wards?” Her questions came out as a whisper.

“Well, I thought for starters it might be an idea to lift the ward that prevents you from calling me a ‘mudblood’.”

Narcissa gave an involuntary twitch at the word almost as if she were expecting pain from someone else speaking the word in her presence. 

“I noticed that you nearly said it a couple of times on my last visit. When I asked Harry about it he told me you physically couldn’t say it without coming to harm?” Why she phrased it as a question Narcissa didn’t know; but she still found herself nodding in confirmation.

“Well then, with your permission, I would like to lift that particular ward right now.”

“You - what?” Narcissa sputtered unexpectedly in a most un-Narcissa way.

“I would like to lift the ward Ms Black.”

“Why?” Narcissa shot back in a tense voice. “What do you get out of this? What am I meant to give you in return? I won’t be joining your programme. I told you. I won’t be persuaded.” The words rushed unbidden from Narcissa’s lips in a panic. There had to be some kind of ulterior motive for this. 

“Nothing.” Hermione replied with a small smile. 

“At least not at first. This is an exercise in trust, Ms Black. All I ask is that you’ll think about allowing me to visit with you again in a few weeks time. Just to talk. Nothing more, nothing less. You don’t even have to say yes to that part of it now. You can owl me your decision later once you’ve had time to think things through. No matter what your decision is, the ward will remain lifted.”

Narcissa stared into her teacup. Her mind whirring through all the possible hidden reasons Hermione Granger was offering to lift a condition of her imprisonment. Surely it was still just a ploy to get her to join this programme of hers? Or would there be an increase in surveillance on the Manor so that anything she said or did be held against her for all time? Maybe if they got a record of her screaming “mudblood” at the top of her lungs they could use it to punish her further. Yes, perhaps that was it. Perhaps the word was now taboo and the moment she said it a flock of Aurors would descend on the Manor to transport her to Azkaban.

But then… Ms Granger had used the word… So surely it couldn’t be taboo… Oh this was maddening!

“There has to be a catch…” Narcissa murmured almost to herself but Hermione caught it.

“No catch. I’ll make an Unbreakable Vow if that would convince you?”

Narcissa’s head snapped up at that. Memories of the last Unbreakable Vow she had partaken in swirled to the surface of her mind, tendrils of memory wrapping round her brain like the magic that had bound Severus to her. The events which followed that particular night were not pleasant and had led to the death of one of her few true friends. She didn’t think she could bear it.

“No. I… I believe you Ms Granger.” She gulped, feeling like the next sentence she spoke may very well change the rest of her life.

“I would be… I would… I would find that most, most… satisfactory” she concluded.

Hermione leapt to her feet, practically beaming at Narcissa for agreeing, and took up her wand at once.

Narcissa’s teacup clattered to the table in her rush to back away from Hermione. For once she didn’t cover up the obvious fear on her face. “You’re doing it now??” she exclaimed, backing up into one of the bookcases.

“No time like the present, right?” Hermione replied with a grin. Narcissa was about to protest further when she felt the rush of magic in the room centering itself on the young witch as she began teasing the runes of the wards into life in front of her. The sheer number of golden runes hanging in the air was staggering but Hermione moved among them with ease. After a moment of searching she located the one she wanted and focused in on it. She began rotating her wand in a complex fashion, adding tiny delicate flicks as she went. The rune glowed an angry red, casting Hermione and the rest of the room in an eerie scarlett glow. Hermione screwed up her face in concentration, seeking the right words, and then opened her eyes wide to speak. 

“ _ Absolvisti de dolore. Liberate verbum "mudblood"! _ ” she cried and a burst of blue light tore across the room. The runes faded before her. The golden glow receding to allow the dim light of the Manor take precedence once more. She turned to Narcissa who was clutching the edge of the bookcase and staring at her with a look of incredulity.

“Go on then.” said Hermione. “Call me a mudblood.”

“Ms Granger… That was... “ Narcissa gasped, pulling herself upright against the bookcase.

“Call me a mudblood Ms Black.”

“I… what?”

“Call me a mudblood. That’s the whole point of this, isn’t it?”

“But I… You just… That magic…” Narcissa fumbled.

“Come on!” Hermione almost shouted at the woman. “Say it!” She was almost bouncing with glee.

“Mud- Mudblood.” Narcissa whispered cautiously, waiting for the inevitable pain and the confirmation that this was indeed a cruel joke.

Nothing happened.

Hermione practically squealed with joy which made Narcissa wince. 

“Well, I must be off, Ms Black. But send me an owl when you’ve thought things through. I’m always contactable at the Ministry!”

Before Narcissa really knew what had happened Hermione had bustled past her with a cheery wave and was out the door. Narcissa’s magic rushed back to her, knocking her back into the bookcase, causing a book to wriggle free of the bookcase and land on Narcissa’s blonde head with a thump.

“Argh! That damnable mudblood!” she roared as she rubbed at the fast forming lump on her head. 

She smiled her first genuine smile in years. That damnable mudblood indeed.


	3. Letters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter today folks - letters back and forth between Hermione and Narcissa.
> 
> But don't worry, I'll fire another chapter your way soon!
> 
> Bet_on_Black

_Dear Ms Granger,_

_I find myself with a bit of a quandary following your visit three weeks ago. I am not a trusting woman, as you may have gauged for yourself. But you speak of wanting to build trust between us..._

_The Slytherin in me thinks you’re up to something and I’ve been running through quite the list of traps you could be leading me into. Perhaps you believe that by building trust with me you may be able to lead me into implicating myself in some act of nefariousness that I may or may not have committed? Or perhaps you think you can gain my trust and then tarnish what little is left of my reputation by carting me about as some kind of reformed Death Eater pet? Is there some greater ploy at play that I have yet to foresee that will lead to an even greater damnation of my soul?_

_Quite simply, Ms Granger, I don’t know. I don’t know what it is you have planned for me. I would seek reassurance but then how could I trust any response you give me? It is a maddening conundrum which weighs on me each day._

_However, there is a small part of me (and I must stress how_ infinitesimally _small this bit of me is) that wishes to trust you to a degree. I do not believe I am yet at the stage where I would feel comfortable with regular visits from yourself._

_I would, however, be willing to correspond with you via letter for a while until I can be sure of your motives if this would suit you equally?_

_I await your owl._

_Sincerely,_

_N. Black_

* * *

  
  


_Dear Ms Black,_

_Thank you for your letter. I must admit I was relieved to hear from you!_

_I understand your suspicions and, were I in your shoes, I might suspect something similar. However, please let me assure you that I have no ulterior motive in mind for you. My removal of that first ward was a gift to you, on behalf of the Ministry. As I explained during my last visit, I was shocked to find out that such a ward existed on your property and I believe its existence to be inhumane. To not even let you speak your mind in your own home was an unthinkably cruel act and I can only apologise that I did not become aware of its existence sooner. I assure you, had I been involved in the warding of your manor I would never have allowed that particular ward (among others) to have been placed._

_I’m more than happy to oblige your request to continue correspondence via owl and I hope that one day you feel you can accept a visit._

_There is much I would like to discuss with you if you would avail me of the opportunity to do so._

_Yours most sincerely,_

_Hermione Granger_

* * *

_Dear Ms Granger,_

_I appreciate your understanding in this matter. You have my thanks for agreeing to this method until such time as I believe there to be a level of trust between us. Assuming that such a level is reached, of course._

_I am intrigued that you believe there is_ much _to discuss with me. I can’t imagine you and I would have a great deal in common. However, your letter has arrived on one of my more forgiving days. I will entertain your notion for now if you will expand more on this thought?_

_Sincerely,_

_N. Black_

* * *

_Dear Ms Black,_

_Oh I think we would have a great many things to discuss if given the chance! I’ve done my research, you see, I happen to know that you were also top in your class in a number of subjects that are dear to my heart - Transfiguration and Arithmancy to name two! Of course, to speak on that level we would need to be much closer, which I hope we will be one day. I would love to pick your brain on some things._

_For now though, I think we still have a lot to talk about with regards to your current situation and how I might help. I know, I know. You’re going to wonder what I want in return! But truly, the answer is nothing. I just want to see justice done properly and without undue harm. So much of my job at present is seeking retribution for the harm of individuals upon society, but Ms Black, I don’t think you deserve half the animosity directed your way by the Ministry or others._

_I’ve been looking more into the wards on Black Manor and I plan to have a discussion with Kingsley about this shortly. I think we can definitely make some improvements._

_I’ll keep you updated._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Hermione_

* * *

_Dear Ms Granger,_

_You have indeed done your research. I must say, I’m impressed by your dedication to your cause. Although I still can’t fathom your motives._

_It’s very kind of you to say that I don’t deserve the animosity, but I assure you,_ I absolutely do _. There are a number of things I have done in my past for which I am not necessarily proud. But I did them all the same. I am undoubtedly a Dark Witch by society’s standards._

_Kingsley? You can’t possibly mean that Shacklebolt is still in charge? Forgive me, I haven't been keeping up with the ins and outs of wizarding politics of late. It didn't seem necessary given my situation and current position in society. But if Shacklebolt is the one in charge I’m not sure I want to be part of his society. A more self righteous dolt there has never been. I’d rather stay locked in my Manor forever than set foot in his society. The man has a darker streak than you could imagine._

_I would watch myself if I were you, Ms Granger._

_Regards,_

_N. Black_

* * *

_Dear Ms Black,_

_Believe me, Kingsley Shacklebolt is by far my least favourite person in the world right now. I’ve just had a meeting with him regarding the wards on your home and he was less than helpful. But worry not, I’m not going to stop trying. I’ve made him listen once and I’ll manage it again!_

_I’ve seen part of what you speak of before but I won’t say more here._

_Please rest assured though, I’m going to win this battle with him._

_Yours,_

_Hermione_

* * *

_Dear Ms Granger,_

_Sometimes you Gryffindors are such fools. Running head first into all sorts of trouble without a thought for yourselves or others._

_I hope you know what you’re doing with Shacklebolt. I’ve come to look forward to our correspondence. I think I might come to miss your letters if they were to stop._

_Yours sincerely,_

_N. Black_

* * *

_Dear Ms Black,_

_I prefer the term ‘brave’ over ‘fool’ but then again, I didn’t exactly go in full Gryffindor mode… I may have taken a couple of tips from Slytherin house on my interactions with the Minister this time._

_It worked!_

_I have such exciting news to tell you but I feel it would be better in person._

_I know, I know, the trust might not be there yet but I have a feeling this is something you’d like to hear and see in person._

_I will, of course, wait for your permission and note of a suitable time before I come barging round. But please, Ms Black, allow me to do this one thing in person._

_Yours,_

_Hermione_

* * *

_Dear Ms Granger,_

_I’ll admit I’m curious._

_Next Tuesday. 3pm. Black Manor._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Narcissa Black_


	4. Liberate Magica

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday folks!
> 
> Seeing as the last chapter was a short one I thought I'd give you this one early :D
> 
> Please keep up the comments, kudos and bookmarks if you're enjoying the story. It gives me a warm fuzzy feeling inside when I get that notification through (and don't we all need warm fuzzy feels during a pandemic?)
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Bet_on_Black

Tuesday arrived with much anticipation for both witches. Narcissa was filled with a kind of nervous excitement. She found she couldn’t sit still all morning, wishing desperately that the afternoon would hurry up so she could hear the intriguing news. Admittedly, she was also nervous about allowing the witch into her home again. In the end though intrigue won and she spent her morning ensuring the drawing room was ready for their impending discussion.

She had just finished adjusting the curtains to allow a small amount of natural light to enter the room and was about to light the fire when she saw the silhouette of the younger witch appear outside the gates. Hastily, knowing that her magic would soon leave her, she directed a silent _incendio_ at the grate. She flicked her wand at the tea set already laid out on the table; bringing the water in the teapot to temperature just as a short burst of excited knocking rang throughout the manor.

Hermione was itching to tell Narcissa the good news and had practically bounced up the steps to the manor. Her mood was a perfect contrast to the dark and imposing granite building. She knocked a few times in rapid succession on the large door and found she didn’t have to wait long for Narcissa to open the door and admit her into the manor. As they made their way into the drawing room Hermione thought the manor seemed slightly more welcoming than on her two previous visits.

“Please, take a seat Ms Granger.” Narcissa intoned with a silky smooth voice that both relaxed Hermione and raised the hairs on the back of her neck.

Hermione moved to the wingback opposite Narcissa and braced herself for the spring digging into her backside. However, when she sat she found the seat soft and comfortable, seeming to conform to her body as she lowered herself into it. She was going to say something when Narcissa interrupted her with a “Tea, Ms Granger?” She nodded, dumbfounded. This was quite possibly the nicest a pureblood had ever been to her, aside from the Weasleys of course.

Narcissa finished pouring the tea, handed Hermione her a cup of what smelled like jasmine tea, and folded herself elegantly into the armchair opposite. Hermione could swear the woman was almost smiling though her lips didn’t betray as much. There was just something in her eyes, like a glimmer, that she didn’t think had been there before.

“Your letters, Ms Granger,” Narcissa began after a sip of the tea. “I must admit, I find myself intrigued by your activities. You spoke with Shacklebolt?”

Hermione smiled and delved straight into the details. “Yes. I went to see him as soon as I had finished visiting with you last time. I will admit that the first meeting didn’t go to plan at all. He wouldn’t hear of any changes to the wards. In fact, I think he was pretty peeved about me changing the mudblood ward…”

“You hadn’t the permission to do so?” Narcissa enquired.

“Oh, I had permission. I think he just didn’t expect me to do it. He didn’t seem pleased.”

Narcissa graced her with the smallest of smiles then. “No, I doubt he was.”

_Kingsley had been more than a little displeased in truth. He had roared across the atrium at her as soon as she stepped out of the floo._

_“Granger! Are you insane? My office, now!”_

_Hermione had followed along meekly; head bowed until they were in the privacy of the Minister’s office. As soon as the door closed though she straightened up and stared Kingsley down across the desk._

_“Was there any need for that, Minister?”_

_“I stand by my words Granger. What you did back at the manor was madness. What if you hadn’t amended the right ward rune? When I said you could make a change I expected you to take Lovegood or someone with you!”_

_“Why?” Hermione asked, confused as to why she would take an Unspeakable with her._

_“I had the Department of Mysteries set the wards. For safety. Narcissa Malfoy cannot be trusted.”_

_For some reason Hermione bristled at the use of Narcissa’s married name._

_“You’re paranoid Kingsley. Narcissa_ Black _” She emphasised the surname for him. “Is not as big a threat as you think. As it is, the amendment went well. Nothing unexpected happened.”_

“But yes,” Hermione shook herself out of the memory and continued. “That first meeting didn’t go exactly to plan. But I kept working on him. He caved in the end.”

Narcissa found herself leaning forward in her seat, listening intently and wishing dearly that her magic were in place right now. There was something in the witch’s eyes when she spoke of the meeting that told her there was a flicker of a memory waiting in the wings. If she had her magic she could have seen it clearly. She was a natural Legillimens, after all, and she sensed there was much more to the story than she was being given right now.

“How?” she asked, an eyebrow raised. “How did you manage it? You said in your letters that you had deployed some Slytherin tactics?”

Hermione smiled and took another sip of her tea before setting the cup down and continuing.

“Hmm, yes, I might have done. I badgered him for a week solid. Everywhere he went. In the lift, outside the Wizengamot, by the floos, I even spotted him in the Leaky Cauldron one night. I was relentless.” She grinned at the blonde across from her. “He was so cross. He actually threatened to fire me at one point”

“I can’t imagine firing one of the Golden Trio would go down well with the press.” Narcissa mused, her chin resting on her hand.

“Well exactly!” Hermione replied, her grin spreading wider. “And this is where the Slytherin tactics came in.”

Narcissa inched forward in her seat, engrossed.

“Did Draco ever tell you about fourth year and how he got his comments into the Daily Prophet?”

Though the mention of her son smarted a bit Narcissa found herself giving a rare genuine smile. “Oh yes, Rita? Who do you think introduced him?”

Hermione nodded, she had thought as much. “Well, Rita and I have had an arrangement since the end of fourth year… You could say she’s my bug in the ministry.”

Then, something rather unexpected happened. Narcissa gave a glorious laugh. It was rich and musical and it filled the room with more light than Hermione had thought possible in the dark manor.

“Oh you know about dear Rita’s little trick! I must say, I’m impressed Ms Granger.” Narcissa offered up another smile, amusement dancing in her eyes. “I expect that’s how you managed to get her to write the article for the Quibbler then?”

“You heard about that?” Hermione wondered out loud. She was taken aback by the suddenly open and amused woman before her. She returned the smile though, finding that, in this moment, she could actually like Narcissa Black.

“Oh yes.” Narcissa smiled darkly, some of the amusement flickering away. “The Dark Lord was not pleased when that came out… You rather threw a spanner in his works there Ms Granger. He was particularly _unpleasant_ that week.”

Hermione shuddered. As Narcissa’s tone changed it felt like the temperature in the room had plummeted by at least 10 degrees. Narcissa must have noticed the change though as she replied “But enough of the Dark Lord. Too many years have been given to him and wasted. Let us not dwell another moment on the moods of a madman. I assume Rita provided you with some interesting information on Mr Shacklebolt?” She sat back in her chair, resuming her previous reserved poise, inviting Hermione to continue with a gracious wave of her hand.

“Ah yes, well Rita did have a scoop for me that proved to be most beneficial. You know he was meant to step down as Minister last year I assume?” Narcissa nodded that she did. “Well, I had a feeling there was something iffy about that but I’d never looked into it much. Rita told me that if I looked into the latest member of the Wizengamot, the one holding the Fawley seat, Ernest McPhail, that I would find something particularly juicy.”

Narcissa raised an eyebrow, intrigued by this information although not altogether surprised. Kingsley had always struck her as being more than he seemed on the surface. Though he was sorted into Ravenclaw at Hogwarts; Narcissa had always suspected the Sorting Hat had considered Slytherin.

“Well,” Hermione continued, “I managed to corner Mr McPhail in the Hogs Head last week and, a few glasses on Ogden’s finest later, he let slip that… Hang on a second.” Hermione paused, her eyes glancing at the walls and ceiling quickly. Her wand slipped into her hand from up her sleeve and she cast a silent Muffliato around them. Narcissa quirked her eyebrow at the action.

“I don’t know how often they use the eavesdropping wards. Thought it best not to have this bit overheard.” Hermione explained, slipping her wand back into the holster at her wrist with delicate fingers.

“So yes, McPhail told me that Kingsley came to him sometime last year before his term expired and gave him an offer he couldn’t refuse.”

“You don’t mean?”

“Yup! Kingsley strong armed him. The Shacklebolt House is still intact whereas the Fawley House is weak, having descended down the maternal line. He threatened to completely obliterate the Fawley line if McPhail didn’t propose a motion to extend Kingsley’s term another three years. Apparently he had enough backing from some of the other Sacred Twenty-Eight but needed a house not allied to his own to make the proposal.” Hermione sat back, a satisfied grin on her face as she took in Narcissa’s impressed gaze.

“Ms Granger” Narcissa began. “I do believe I owe you an apology. You’re not nearly as foolish as I thought.”

The compliment was backhanded but Hermione decided to take it, allowing her wand to slip into her hand again to end the Muffliato before she continued. “So after all that, I got the permission I needed.”

“And what permission was that, Ms Granger?”

“Ms Black, if you’ll allow me, I’d very much like to lift another ward today.”

Had Narcissa not already been sitting she might have needed to take a seat. She had anticipated that Ms Granger had gotten permission to continue badgering her in her home or at best might have secured a minor modification to the wards. But the news that there was an entire ward she could lift? It didn’t seem possible.

“You… You’re surely jesting with me, Ms Granger?” Narcissa asked, her voice unsteady as she took in the unassuming witch before her.

“No, I’m perfectly serious. I have permission to lift a ward today. It’s not a major one, of course,” Hermione rambled, “but it’s a stepping stone of sorts.”

She reached across the gap and took Narcissa’s hands in her own. A move that took both the witches by surprise judging by the flush that reached Hermione’s cheeks when she heard Narcissa’s slight gasp and realised what she was doing. Still, she did not release the witch’s hands quite yet.

“If you’re amenable, I would like to lift the ward that prevents you from performing magic in your home when someone enters.”

“A- Amenable?” Narcissa stuttered, shock racing through her body both at the notion and the touch of the younger witch. She could sense Hermione’s magic more so now that they were touching and longed to have her own magic coursing through her veins now too.

_How could she possibly be anything other than amenable to such a proposal? To not be rendered completely inept and useless in front of another? To be able to defend herself if the need arose?_

“Of course!” she gasped, finding herself returning the faint squeeze from Hermione’s hands.

That earned her a beaming smile from the other witch. “I thought you’d like that.” She made to stand up but found Narcissa still holding her hands. She locked eyes properly with Narcissa for the first time, losing herself for a moment in the swirling blue behind the ice.

“Why?” Narcissa asked quietly, breaking their eye contact to look down at her hands. “Why are you helping me?”

“Because,” Hermione replied in equally quiet tones. “You’re not the monster they’re making you out to be. As far as I can see, you’re just a woman who did what she had to do to survive. And removing your magic… Leaving you defenceless…. No matter what allegiances you might have had in the war… It’s just cruel.”

_Ah. So that’s it_ . Narcissa thought as she removed her hands from Hermione’s grasp. _I’m Ms Granger’s wounded puppy. Something for her to righteously save._

“Okay.” Narcissa responded, standing and making her way across to the bookcase she had clutched onto last time. “You have my permission.”

Hermione grinned. “Brilliant. But I’m going to need you across here please, Ms Black” She gestured to the centre of the room where she had stood last time to perform the modification of the wards. When Narcissa didn’t budge Hermione explained further.

“This particular ward is tied to your magic itself so I need to work with both the wards of the manor and the ward that lies with you.” She paused as if unsure before continuing.”It will require a small amount of physical connection, I’m afraid. But I’ll work quickly so it won’t last any longer than it has to.” She smiled apologetically.

She hadn’t been aware that the Ministry had tampered with her actual magic although she didn’t put it past them to do so. Following the trial she had been magically sedated. The Ministry had feared she would use some of her considerable power against them had they tried to incarcerate her whilst she was conscious. Some days Narcissa thought they had been right to do so as she would have _eviscerated_ them. Now though, knowing they had violated her very magic, she cursed them further.

She crossed the room in reply to Ms Granger’s request. There were many reasons she could think of to not trust the young witch. _What if the witch used the contact to further hamper her? No._ She decided firmly. The Ministry would perhaps wish such a thing. But Ms Granger… There was a fragile trust between them now and Hermione was clearly not working alongside the Minister on this one. She would trust the young witch. For now.

Hermione allowed her wand to slip from it’s holster into her hand once more and began the process of pulling up the house wards. Within moments the room was filled with the golden runes, slowly circling the two witches at the centre of the room. Hermione flicked her wand through the rune closest to her, causing the rune to shoot off to the side and be replaced by another. She did this a few times until she seemed satisfied with the rune in front of her. With a nod to herself she closed her eyes in concentration, trying to pull the right incantation to mind before she began.

Narcissa couldn’t help but notice how the golden light of the runes bounced off Hermione’s brown hair, turning it almost coppery, and illuminated her pale face. For a moment Narcissa was entranced. The sheer magic of the moment pulled her in and set her nerves on fire.

Hermione opened her eyes then and motioned for Narcissa to stand in front of her, which she did, still hooked on the sheer power emanating from the witch.

“I’m going to start the incantation now.” Hermione explained. “I need you to stay very still and not resist. You’re going to feel the pull of my magic against yours and it’ll probably feel really weird. But I promise you Narcissa, I won’t let anything bad happen to you. If I think it won’t work I’ll pull back and start again. I won’t endanger you or your magic.”

Narcissa nodded silently realising that Hermione had used her name for the first time. She decided she didn’t not like it. “I trust you, Ms Granger.”

Hermione raised her wand to the rune and reached her right hand out to rest at the top of Narcissa’s sternum. Her hand was cool and Narcissa resisted the urge to shiver as she felt the cool but powerful magic thrumming in Hermione’s fingertips. With a twist of her wand Hermione began, chanting the incantation and watching as the rune in front of her slowly turned silver.

“ _Inde Narcissa solvere catenae. Liberate et confines eius in magica_.”

The rune shone brighter with each repetition of the incantation and Narcissa felt the magic in Hermione’s fingertips building. The hand on her chest growing warmer with each recitation, until they were almost seering into her skin.

“ _Inde Narcissa solvere catenae. Liberate et confines eius in magica_.”

She felt her magic seeping back slowly, mingling with Hermione’s as it pulled Narcissa’s magic from some unknown void within her. It felt like sunshine and fireworks, the surge of a storm and the feeling of warm sand between toes, the first time she had held a wand. It felt like her very existence, her soul itself rejoining her after a long absence.

“ _Inde Narcissa solvere catenae. Liberate et confines eius in magica._ ” Hermione paused in her last incantation before adding “ _Da veniam eius meam._ ”

The rune she had been focusing on flashed a blinding white and Narcissa felt a pulse from Hermione’s hand right into her chest. She gasped and felt her knees weaken beneath her. Had it not been for Hermione’s other hand swooping round her waist to keep her upright she would surely have slumped to the floor in a heap. Even so, her eyes fluttered shut and she was swallowed by darkness.

“Narcissa?” a voice called to her either moments later or days later. She couldn’t figure out which it was. _Did it really matter?_

“Narcissa? Come on, come back to me.” _Whose voice was that? It was familiar and not all at once._

“Narcissa! Please!” Hermione’s voice broke through at last. Narcissa blinked slowly, her eyes needing to become accustomed to the golden glow that filled the room.

Concerned hazel eyes bore into her own, glistening in the golden light of the runes. “Hey” Hermione breathed, moving back to give Narcissa some space. “You’re back. You had me worried for a moment.” She smiled and sat back on her haunches.

Narcissa gingerly sat up and found that she was on a chaise longue in the middle of the drawing room.

“Sorry about that, you were falling quite fast. I had to transfigure your coffee table!” Hermione explained, seeing the look of confusion on Narcissa’s face. “I can have it sorted in a jiffy though!”

Narcissa smiled and tested her feet against the ground. She could feel a familiar hum in her body, confirmation that her magic was back where it should be. “Not at all, Ms Granger.” Narcissa said, summoning her wand wordlessly to her hand, appreciating the glow she felt inside at the contact with the wood. “I believe I should be able to manage that feat, if you’d care to witness my first bit of magic in front of another for a good few years?”

Hermione nodded enthusiastically, eager to see the product of her work, and stepped back to give Narcissa room.

“ _Reparifarge_!” Narcissa cast with new found confidence. She was delighted when the chaise longue switched back to the small oak coffee table. Hermione clapped enthusiastically behind her. She stepped forward as if to hug the witch but then stopped herself, abruptly turning to deal with the runes as if she had intended to do so all along.

Once Hermione had finished returning the runes the drawing room dimmed considerably. She turned to the blonde witch and gave a hesitant smile. “It worked then.”

“Did you ever believe it wouldn’t, Ms Granger?”

“No spell is without risk Ms Black” she replied, her gaze flitting down to avoid looking at Narcissa.

“Quite.” Narcissa replied, her lips pressed into a thin smile.

“Well,” said Hermione, still not meeting Narcissa’s gaze. “I should probably leave you to it, Ms Black. If… If it’s alright with you can I keep writing to you?”

“Oh I don’t think that would be suitable” Narcissa replied, her tone so straightforward that Hermione felt as if a ball of lead had landed in her stomach. She was about to quietly agree and make her way out of the manor when Narcissa continued. “Not if you’re going to be visiting me on a regular basis Ms Granger. I shouldn’t see the need to write when you’ll surely be back next week for tea?”

Hermione’s head snapped up and just caught the amused glint in Narcissa’s eyes before the ice shield came down once more.

“2pm next Tuesday if you please Ms Granger.”


	5. MILF

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the response to this story has been kind of amazing... I seriously didn't think I was going to get so many hits or kudos or even comments from positing this so I just want to take a quick moment to thank everyone for reading! 
> 
> Reading the comments has been amazing too, though I've had to be very careful when answering them as I forget I'm currently 4 chapters ahead of everyone and I am my own worst enemy when it comes to spoilers. I will reply but it'll just take me a while to make sure I'm not giving the entire plot away in the comments section.
> 
> Anyhow! I hope you all enjoy this next chapter. I may have had a bit of fun writing it.

"She wants me to come back next week.” Hermione groaned into her Butterbeer.

“You make that sound like a bad thing!”

Sometimes Hermione could kick herself. Why had she thought heading to Ginny straight after leaving Black Manor was a good idea?

Ginny was great. There was no denying that. But she was also intent on finding Hermione someone after the breakup. It was kind of endearing to start with, but as time wore on Ginny’s suggestions had become more and more outlandish.

First it had been Neville Longbottom who was… sweet but decidedly not straight. It had been a very awkward date. Then there had been Dean Thomas who had spent the entire date asking how Ginny was and if there was any sign she might break up with Harry. (Ginny had just about wet herself laughing when she heard that).

Alarmingly, the next date had been Blaise Zabini, the tall Slytherin who was often seen looming behind Draco at Hogwarts. The entire date had been spent in silence aside until the end when he had lunged across the small table to kiss her.

She had decided not to return his many _many_ letters.

After that there had been a respite of a year whilst Ginny threw herself into furious wedding planning. Hermione might have been able to breathe easy had it not been for the discussion about who her plus one for the wedding was to be.

She’d only been to one wizarding wedding before (Bill and Fleur’s) and she had naturally gone with Ron. They hadn’t been dating at the time but it had felt right given their friendship and the task looming in front of them. What she hadn’t realised was that by going with Ron she was falling in with wizarding tradition in that the wedding is only ever attended by couples and the children of said couples. An unwed single person in attendance would surely bring doom upon the newly married couple.

So when Hermione had informed Ginny that she was going to attend the wedding ‘stag’ she had only very narrowly avoided a Bat-Bogey Hex from the furious woman. _“_

 _Hermione Jean Granger you damn well find a date or I’ll hex you so hard your descendants will have bats coming out of their noses!”_.

Not surprisingly, Hermione had very quickly agreed to Ginny’s next suggestion of attending with Ernie Macmillan. That quickly turned out to be a bad idea. Ernie had spent the whole evening reminiscing about their time at Hogwarts and how he very nearly bested Hermione in every subject. Then not so subtly informing her that he was pegged to take on the deputy head position in Muggle Affairs whilst she remained in her mid-position role in Magical Restitution. It had taken all she had in her not to give him a taste of her right hook like she had Malfoy all those years ago…

“Helloooo? Earth to Hermione?” Ginny interrupted her reverie, waving her hand in front of Hermione’s face. “Would it really be so bad to go back to Mrs Malfoy’s? She’s still a bit of a MILF, right?”

Hermione groaned again and knocked back the rest of her Butterbeer. “Please don’t say that word.”

“What? MILF?” Ginny snickered. “I’m sorry but that’s one Malfoy I wouldn’t mind letting _Slyther-in_ if you know what I mean?”

“Jesus, Ginny. _Stop_!” Hermione hissed at her, her face turning red. “And it’s not Malfoy now anyway. She’s a Black.”

“Since when?” Ginny replied, eyebrow raised at Hermione’s defence of Narcissa.

“Well, it’s not official yet but she’s trying to divorce him. Something hasn’t gone through at the Ministry yet though I guess.”

“Oh.” Ginny sat back in her chair and ran a hand through her hair in a way that reminded Hermione of Harry. “She won’t be able to finalise it.”

“What do you mean? Surely it’s just a case of waiting for the paperwork to get through the system, right?”

“Nah, you’re thinking Muggle style.” Ginny said, standing up to go to the bar before adding. “She needs to attend in person. Her and Lucius. Only way to undo the marriage vows.”

“What?” Hermione sputtered but Ginny had already wandered off to the bar.

She hadn’t thought… But of course… Of course the marriage had to be dissolved magically as well as legally. _How had she not seen that?_

_Poor Narcissa…_ She found herself thinking. _No wonder she didn’t want me saying his name in her house. She’s tried to divorce him but unless she can leave the house and he can leave Azkaban she’s still bound to him. She can’t be free._

The Ministry, she concluded, were a bunch of bastards. She had thought the wards were unnecessary but this… this was just downright cruel. Narcissa would never have any kind of freedom, reformed or otherwise, unless she could sever ties with her useless rat of a husband.

She was about to get up and leave when Ginny returned with a tray full of tiny glasses.

“Oh no you don’t, Granger! Park your arse back down, we’re doing shots.” Ginny ordered with a small shove to make Hermione bump back down onto the seat of the booth. “I know that face. You’re probably going to go off to the library or something to research breaking pure-blood marriage vows.”

“I… what, no, that’s not-”

“Nope! I know you too well.” Ginny interrupted, passing Hermione a steaming shot of amber liquid. “Now is not the time for research. You’re sitting here and drinking with me. You can go save your MILF tomorrow. This may be the only night away from Harry and James I get this year the way Harry’s schedule is and I am _not_ giving up my one night of freedom because you want to run off to the library. Now,” she raised a glass of her own, “take your damn shot!”

  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hermione was rudely awoken the next morning by the sticky prodding fingers of Harry and Ginny’s two year old son, James.

“Aunty Mione! Aunty Mione! Waaaaaaake up!” he squealed delightedly in her ear.

She cringed and tried to roll away only to find her way blocked by an equally exhausted looking Ginny next to her. The redhead had her eyes scrunched shut tightly and seemed to be attempting to bury her head under her pillows. “Jaaaames, go bother daddy!” she pleaded groggily to the waiting toddler.

James took this as an opportunity to bounce on the bed instead, causing both women to tumble out the small bed and onto the floor as he proudly proclaimed, “Daddy said I could wake up Mummy and Mione!”

Ginny groaned loudly and pulled herself up to sit on the edge of the bed muttering darkly “Your daddy is going to have bats pouring out of his nostrils for weeks when I find my wand…”

Hermione stifled a chuckle as she too hauled herself off of the floor to perch next to Ginny. As James sprinted off to inform Harry that Mummy and ‘Mione’ were awake she rested her head on Ginny’s shoulder. “Where the hell does he get the energy from, Gin? No one should be that excitable at…” she paused to check her watch and groaned, “ _eight_ _am_ on a Saturday morning!”

Ginny tilted her head to rest atop Hermione’s. “He’s very much Harry’s son in the morning. The pair of them wake up at the crack of dawn most mornings. I swear they do it to annoy me.” She laughed quietly. “But luckily for them I stopped sleeping with my wand under my pillow a couple of years after the war so neither of them are at risk of immediate hexing.”

Hermione laughed too before straightening up. “Speaking of wands, where’s mine? I could have sworn I had it when we left the pub last night. I could summon us some of that hangover solution Harry keeps under the sink.”

Ginny flopped back on the bed with a sigh. “You’ll need to ask Harry. I had him take it off you last night when we got back.”

“What? Why?” Hermione replied, worry creeping in past the pain of her hangover.

“You kept trying to apparate to _Hampshire_ of all places.”

“Hampshi-” _Oh god…_ “Did I… Did I successfully get there?” she asked nervously, afraid to hear the answer even as her memories were creeping back in from the night before.

“Well,” Ginny’s muffled voice came from under the pillows. “You got us _somewhere_. But I don’t know exactly where. It was kind of dark, y’know? Definitely Hampshire though.”

“How do you know?”

“Harry” Ginny grumbled. “I didn’t trust either of us to get back home so I sent him a patronus to come pick us up. It’s probably why he sent James in to wake us up. Revenge, the git.”

_Oh. Oh damn. Harry would know exactly where Hermione had been headed._

She stood quickly, causing the bed to creak and Ginny to groan loudly. “I have to go, Gin. Got things to do.” she said quickly, straightening her robes and shoving her shoes on roughly.

“Oh yeah, your MILF.” Ginny laughed sleepily.

“What?! No. No MILF. I just… I just need to be getting on. I’ll see you later Gin!”

With that she rushed out the room, down the stairs and nearly knocked Harry over as he came out the kitchen with a tray laden with bacon and eggs.

“Whoa there Hermione! Where are you off to? I made breakfast!” He lifted the tray up to emphasise the point.

“Harry, I have to go. Do you have my wand? I need my wand. Apparating, you know?” she rambled at him with a weak smile.

Harry balanced the tray on a radiator for a second whilst he pulled his wand out of his back pocket. He gave it a quick swish and the tray rose by itself and went before him as he wrapped an arm round Hermione’s shoulders and directed her back into the kitchen. “Come with me, Mione. You can’t go anywhere on an empty stomach. Besides, I think we should have a chat about last night.”

Hermione felt like her stomach dropped a clear foot. Here it was. Her suspicions were right. Harry knew _exactly_ where she had been trying to apparate to.

Harry pulled out a chair at the kitchen island for her and set the levitating tray down to rest in front of her.

“Go on,” he directed, “you’re gonna need something in your stomach before you have the hangover solution, right?” He smiled kindly at her and pushed a mug of the thick purple sludge known as ‘Harold Hitchen’s Heavenly Hangover Cure’

Hermione reluctantly shovelled some eggs into her mouth before forcing the sludge down her throat. It was like drinking congealed gravy that had been sat for several days and then mixed with essence of cabbage. Nothing about drinking it was ‘heavenly’ except for the fact it could blast a hangover out of existence in less than 5 minutes.

“So…” Harry began, taking a seat opposite her with a much more appetising looking cup of coffee. “Hampshire? Was there a reason you and my wife decided to visit the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black at three in the morning?” He didn’t say it unkindly but there was an edge to his voice that told Hermione he didn’t approve of her destination.

“Ugh…” Hermione sighed, sitting back and letting her eyes close for a moment as she felt the blush creep up her neck. “It was so stupid. Nothing really. Just something Gin said before shots.”

“The MILF bit?” Harry teased with a knowing grin on his face.

“Oh gods, no Harry! I wish you and Ginny wouldn’t say that.” Hermione replied, eyes snapping open to meet Harry’s amused green gaze. “Not that. It was about the divorce. Ginny told me that Narcissa can’t divorce Lucius because they both need to attend the Ministry in person to dissolve the magical bonds.”

“Did you intend to drag Narcissa Malfoy to the Ministry at three in the morning?”

“No… I… There were _shots_ , Harry! You know I can never keep up with Ginny on shots.”

“Ginny can’t keep up with _herself_ on shots.” Harry muttered.

“And the thought just wouldn’t leave my head. I _swear_ I intended to bring us back here but then Ginny kept on laughing and saying, that… that word - “

“MILF?” Harry supplied again with a grin.

“Yes, _that_ word. And before I knew it we were outside the gates and I dropped my wand and Ginny was laughing and falling over and… and… I’m sorry, Harry, okay? I know it was super late and you had James to deal with. I swear I didn’t mean it Harry. It won’t happen again.”

Harry laughed. Loudly. A full blown belly laugh that both hurt Hermione’s head with the volume and soothed her with the ease at which it came. He wasn’t mad. Thank goodness.

Once he had finished laughing he passed her a cup of coffee to get rid of the taste of the hangover sludge and added more seriously, “It’s a good thing Gin sent that patronus though. You know the outside of Black Manor has traces laid across it, right? I got an alert through my Auror badge that someone had apparated into the area unexpectedly. If I hadn’t gone to pick you up then it would have been Ron, he was on duty last night.”

That thought sobered her up almost as much as the hangover solution. “Oh.” she said, quietly, staring into the black of her coffee.

She hadn’t really seen Ron since Harry and Ginny’s wedding and, to be honest, she didn’t really want to see him any time soon either. They passed each other in the Ministry frequently enough but Hermione always made sure she had a reason to be hurrying in the opposite direction. Ron hadn’t taken the break-up particularly well and she could tell from the way he gazed at her across the crowded foyer or from behind closing lift grills that he still felt something for her. The feeling was definitely not mutual.

“Thanks.” She murmured with a quick glance to Harry.

He smiled softly in return. “S’okay. I know what he’s like. Probably would have ditched Ginny, whisked you off to the Burrow and that would have been the last we heard of you!” He jested with a little nudge to her elbow across the counter. “He’ll get over you soon. Just needs to find the right woman.”

Hermione laughed quietly. “We’ve been saying that for how many years now, Harry?”

He grimaced. “I know. I know. He’s stubborn but I’ll eventually get it through his thick skull.”

He stood then and walked across to a cabinet, whispered a low “ _Alohomora!_ ” and then drew out a thin, elegant ebony wand*. He passed it across to Hermione and she felt that familiar tingle she associated with being reunited with her wand. It was a different feeling to her previous wand but it still felt distinctly hers. She smiled and thanked him before disapperating with a faint ‘pop’.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  


Hermione paced nervously in the corridor outside the Magical Relations Unit; trying to psych herself up to go in and ask the question she needed to know the answer to. The only problem was that she would have to ask Lavender Brown. They hadn’t really spoken much since the incident following Ron’s attack in sixth year when he had finally broken up with Lavender. It was stupid really. They’d fought together in the Battle of Hogwarts. But no real words had been said since then. Anytime she’d seen Lavender in passing the other witch had either glared at her or ignored her completely.

Hermione took a deep breath. She could do this. She could. She was a brave Gryffindor, war hero even. This was nothing compared to the horrors of war.

Her hand refused to stop shaking even as she opened the door.

She walked into the room, relieved to see it unoccupied for the moment, and let out a quiet sigh.

“ONE MINUTE!” A shrill voice came from under the desk causing Hermione to jump back against the now closed door.

A tangled mess of blonde curls appeared from under the desk and Hermione found herself looking into the deep blue of Lavender’s eyes. They had a slightly glazed quality that reminded Hermione of Professor Trelawney when she was attempting to see _‘into the beyond!’_

However, the glazed look faded quickly to be replaced by a hard glare as Lavender’s brows furrowed. “Granger.” She said tersely, sweeping a hand through the tangled curls in an attempt to tame them. “What brings you down to the lowly levels of the Magical Relations Office? You don’t seem the…” she paused for a second as if in thought, “ _type_ to need our services.”

Hermione didn’t like Lavender’s tone and, under normal circumstances, would have called her out on it. However, she needed her help and given that Magical Relations was a small unit in the Ministry there was hardly anyone else she could turn to for answers.

“Lavender, it’s good to see you.” She began and it was clear to see by Lavender’s face that she did not think that was the case. “I’ve got a question for you regarding pureblood marriage rituals.” Lavender raised an eyebrow. “For a case!” Hermione added quickly. “Magical Restitution. We need to know the ins and outs of pureblood marriage contracts and the binding, specifically how it can be undone.”

Lavender gave a haughty sniff in return, sitting down stiffly in her chair as if she was above considering Hermione’s request. “It depends.”

“On?”

“The families involved.”

Ah. Hermione had been hoping it wouldn’t come down to specifics. But it made sense that every pureblood family would have their own rites and traditions. She had no idea how to ask for the specifics without letting on that she was looking into Narcissa’s case. And lord knows she didn’t need that information getting back to Kingsley. He was still pissed at her for the ward changing and the blackmailing.

“If it’s a standard pureblood marriage then it comes down to whatever’s brokered in the negotiation period of the engagement.” Lavender carried on matter of factly, seeming to relish the fact that she knew more than Hermione Granger on a subject other than Divination.

“However, if it’s Sacred Twenty-Eight level then they all follow a very strict set of rules. Married in the presence of the Heads of House, handfasted with unicorn hair to ensure the union is _pure_ , and vows of fealty from one party to the other. To dissolve the marriage, both parties must agree to it in writing and formally in the presence of the Ministry, Heads of House and… a Dementor.”

“A Dementor?” Hermione questioned, shocked that such a foul creature would be needed for any kind of Ministry business other than guarding Azkaban.

“Uh huh.” Lavender replied in a bored tone. “To make sure there’s absolutely no happiness left in the marriage. Only thing that can undo the work of a unicorn. I thought _you_ of all people might know that.” she smirked and picked at her nails, pleased that she had gotten one up on Hermione.

“Ah, yes. The lightest creature versus the darkest. Makes sense.” Hermione said quietly and began to walk towards the exit. “Thanks Lavender. That helps.”

“Surely Ron could have told you as much?” Lavender sniped. “The Weasley’s might be blood traitors but they’re still part of the twenty-eight. All their marriages work that way.”

_Well_ , thought Hermione on her way out, _that explains why Ginny knew about the Ministry bit at least..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * I figured Hermione no longer has her original vine wood wand as she lost that at Malfoy Manor. So this is a replacement that she got after that event.
> 
> Also, I think we’ve all come to realise this is a bit of an AU so in this world Lavender didn’t die at the claws of Greyback during the Battle of Hogwarts.


	6. Tea

Hermione fumbled nervously with the sleeves of her robe as she considered herself in the mirror. She didn’t look any different from normal. She was smart and presentable as she would usually be for a day in the office. Only she wasn’t just going to the office today. It was Tuesday, which meant she was expected at Black Manor this afternoon and all of a sudden her Ministry robes didn’t seem like enough.

The badge on the sleeve of her robes, with its large M and central wand emblem, seemed to glare up at her from the fabric. Somehow it didn’t feel right to return to Narcissa wearing the brand of her imprisoners. She slipped the robes off and instead opted for a simple yet smart set of black robes. With a flick of her wand she added a discrete red and green trim to them. It wasn’t great but it would do for both places she had to be today. She gave herself one last look over before taking a pinch of green powder and walking into the fireplace.

When she came spinning out at the opposite end she found herself spinning right into the arms of a tall, gangly redhead.

“Ron!” she exclaimed. She tried to extricate herself from his limbs and brush the soot off at the same time which actually caused her to both push and stroke his chest instead. He gave her a lopsided grin and she felt herself blush, mortified at her actions.

“Morning ‘Mione. I was just coming to get you.” He said sheepishly. “We’re wanted at Hogwarts.”

Before she could ask him why Hogwarts required an Auror and someone from Magical Restitution he had already walked her back into the flames, unleashing a handful of Floo Powder as he shouted “Hogwarts Kitchens!”

The pair of them tumbled out of the flames a moment later in a cloud of soot into the vast kitchens of Hogwarts. Almost immediately they were surrounded by house elves, all of them squeaking offers of help and assistance to the unexpected visitors.

“Mr Weezy!” one elf in particular shouted. “Mr Weezy! Is you wanting breakfast?”

Ron grinned and turned to Hermione. “Fancy it? Winky still makes excellent scrambled eggs”

“I’m okay thanks.” She knelt down to address the elf. “Winky! How are you?”

The small elf smiled with a little twitch of her large ears. “Winky is well Miss Grangy! Winky is working hard for Hogwarts and honouring Dobby’s memory!”

Hermione couldn’t help herself, she folded the small creature up in her arms and hugged her tight. “Dobby would be _so_ proud of you Winky, I know it! You’re wonderful”

The house elf preened under her praise and it filled Hermione’s heart with joy to see her so happy. It didn’t feel all that long ago since their fourth year at school and coming down to the kitchens to find Winky in a state of drunkenness following her sacking from the Crouch household. She turned her attention back to Ron for now though. She needed to know why he had dragged her back to their old school. “Ron, why are we here?”

Ron was, perhaps predictably, shovelling scrambled eggs into his mouth as he answered. “Oh yeah! Mmph, we need to check ou- the new DADA professor. McGonagall asked for you specifically!”

Hermione frowned. Why would McGonagall ask for Hermione’s input? The vetting of new professors was conducted by the Auror office following the war to ensure there wasn’t another Moody situation. There was no reason for someone from Magical Restitution to be there. She was about to inform Ron of her conclusions when the hidden doorway to the kitchens opened and Professor McGonagall herself stepped into the room.

“Mr Weasley, I believe I asked for you and Ms Granger to meet me in my _office_? This is very much the kitchens.” She said with a wry smile.

Ron had the good grace to look embarrassed as he wiped scrambled eggs from his face with the back of his hand. “Sorry Professor. Just thought I’d grab some breakfast first!”

The old witch rolled her eyes and smiled. “You never change Mr Weasley. Ms Granger, it’s a pleasure to see you again. Welcome back.” She waved her wand and the plate in front of Ron disappeared. “Much as I hate to interrupt your breakfast Mr Weasley, perhaps we can move this discussion to my office?”

Hermione snickered and for a moment it was almost like they were teens again, getting told off for sneaking down to the kitchens when they should have been studying. With a quick wave to Winky and the other house elves she and Ron followed the Headmistress out of the kitchens.

“Now, Mr Weasley, Ms Granger, I’ve called you both in so that you can assess a pending appointment to the School’s teaching staff.” Professor McGonagall began brusquely. “As with all posts the Auror Office must approve, but in this instance I would also like the opinion of the Department for Magical Restitution. Our pending appointment is an American, one Bryce Fenwick. He’s an interesting fellow, has a number of minor convictions against him in his own country, but very skilled in Defence Against the Dark Arts. Mr Weasley, I would appreciate it if you would perform the usual checks but Ms Granger, I wonder if you might give your professional opinion on him also. As I said, he has a number of minor convictions but I believe that he may be more likely to reform himself if he is given an opportunity to do so outside the prison system, especially the American system.” She finished grimly, gazing at her two former students over the rims of her glasses.

“No probs,” replied Ron who was leaning back on his chair recklessly. “I’ll run his records through the system and check for any dodgy connections.”

Professor McGonagall nodded and then directed her attention to Hermione. She could have picked anyone from Magical Restitution really; but she couldn’t pass up the opportunity to consult with Hermione. Why the girl hadn’t ascended to the ranks of Auror as her two friends had done was beyond her. But she trusted Hermione’s instincts and knew that if anyone would take this request seriously it would be her former pupil.

“I would need to see the full details of his previous convictions, Professor.” Hermione replied after a moment of consideration. “It would depend entirely on the nature of his crimes as to whether or not there’s a chance this could work for him. And of course we would need to take into account the impact he might have on your students. Would it be possible to meet with him in person once I’ve done the initial groundwork? Sometimes it’s easier to judge if I speak with the witch or wizard in person.”

“Naturally.” Professor McGonagall agreed with another nod of her head. “If you let me know once the initial work has been completed I can arrange a meeting between yourself and Mr Fenwick. Mr Weasley would you care to be present as well?”

Ron swung himself forward and nearly toppled out of his chair. “Of course, Professor! I’m more than happy to ensure Hermione’s safety!”

Hermione groaned. “I don’t think that’s what Professor McGonagall meant Ron. I don’t need protection.”

“He’s a criminal ‘Mione!” Ron returned as if Hermione had no idea what she was up against.

“He’s a soon-to-be professor, Ronald. I’m sure Professor McGonagall wouldn’t even be considering him if he was at all dangerous.” Her tone was sharp and she could see the tips of Ron’s ears reddening like they always did when he was embarrassed or angry.

“Yeah, well I’m just trying to keep you safe.” He snapped back. “I don’t want you getting hurt!”

Hermione took a steadying breath, she didn’t want to have this conversation at all, let alone in front of their former Professor. “That’s none of your concern Ronald. Now, Professor McGonagall, if you don’t need anything further of us, I should be getting along to my next appointment.”

Professor McGonagall stood to escort her from the office but Hermione waved her off with a light smile. “I’ll be in touch, Professor.” She said politely as she closed the door behind her, leaving Professor McGonagall with a stewing Ron.

She hurried down through the castle as quickly as possible, hoping that Professor McGonagall would keep Ron a minute or two longer than was strictly necessary. Once she made it into the grounds without incident she allowed herself to breathe properly.

Why, after all these years, was he still acting like this? Yes, he had always been protective, but that was back when they were friends and for the couple of years they’d been an actual couple. He had no right to feel that way now and it infuriated her.

Harry had spoken with him on a number of occasions to no avail and she was pretty sure Ginny and George had teamed up to scare the notion into him. But still he held on to this belief that she was his to protect.

It was part of the reason they had broken up in the first place. He insisted on doing everything for her; carrying her things, opening doors, casting spells that she was more than capable of performing herself... He wouldn’t let her lift a finger. Many other witches, she was sure, would have loved to have such a doting partner. But not Hermione, she needed her independence and Ron was simply not willing to give her that. He wanted the perfect housewife who had nothing to want for and she wanted her career and to explore her magic further. She couldn’t do either of those things with Ron hovering around her all the time.

So she’d broken things off. She had wanted to be gentle with him, she did love him after all, just not the way he wanted. But he remained pig headed as he had ever been. He insisted he could change, that of course she was allowed a career (right up until they got married and had kids, naturally), he just wanted to look after her. Eventually, she had had to remind him that she was not his mother and that she never would be. It hadn’t been a pretty sight. His entire face had gone as red as his hair and she had been forced to leave their flat for her parents house and throw up repelling wards so that he could not follow her.

She took another steady breath and realised that she was now nearing the gates of the school. She summoned the happiest thought she could, finding her parents after the war, cast a patronus and sent it on to Harry with a warning that Ron would be returning to the office in a foul mood and to be prepared. She would pop round in a couple of nights to see him, Ginny and James once things had calmed down. The happy white fox in front of her gave a small yip before racing off to warn Harry.

Checking her watch she saw that it was nearing half past one. She wouldn’t have much time for lunch before heading to Black Manor but perhaps she could pick something up with a quick pit stop in Diagon. She turned on the spot and disapperated with the faintest of ‘pop’s, glad to be leaving Ron behind, for now at least.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hermione paused outside the entrance to the Black Manor estate and pulled a small mirror from her pocket to ensure there were no crumbs lingering from her hasty pumpkin pasty. Satisfied with her appearance, she made her way up the long gravel drive and tried to formulate what she would say to Narcissa now that she knew what had to be done. She raised a hand to knock at the door only to find it swung inward as she made to knock. The hallway looked lighter than it had done on her previous visits to the Manor, though the flames in the wall sconces seemed no bigger to her memory.

As she stepped across the threshold the flames of the nearest torch brightened and emitted a warm glow. _That’s new._ She thought, taking another careful step, only have the next torch do the same.

“Ms Black?” she called down the hall, worry seeping in the further she went. “N-Narcissa?” she ventured not really knowing if she was okay to call her by her first name yet. Suddenly, the rest of the torches down the hall lit up at the same time and Hermione found herself spinning round, wand drawn, looking for a foe behind her.

A cough from further down the hall startled her further and she spun back round to see Narcissa poking her head out of the drawing room door. “Ah, Ms Granger! I thought that might be you. Please forgive the lighting situation, I’m a bit rusty.” She said with the barest hint of a grin. “I’m a bit out of practice on the old incantations for the halls. I never really needed this much light on my own but as I have a guest…” Her voice petered out as she noticed Hermione staring at her, mouth agape.

She really didn’t mean to stare at the woman but Hermione couldn’t recall the last time she had seen Narcissa stand in such bright light and… Dammit. Ginny was right. Narcissa Black was indeed a bit of a MILF. She felt a blush rising up her neck and hastily worked to stop staring at the vision in front of her. She rubbed at the back of her neck nervously. “Hello Ms Black.” she said quietly.

“Good afternoon Ms Granger.” Narcissa replied with a small smile. She stepped back to allow Hermione into the room. “Please, take a seat. Tea?” A flick of her wand set the tea things into motion with a merry tinkle. Before Hermione knew it a hot cup of tea was gently bumping at her hand asking to be held.

She sniffed at the tea and was pleased to smell peppermint, exactly what she needed right now. “Mmm… Peppermint.” she murmured, taking a seat opposite Narcissa as directed. “How did you-?”

“I didn’t.” Narcissa smiled softly. “Old family tea set. Always knows what the drinker needs. Rather handy really.”

Hermione nearly asked what kind of tea Narcissa was having but then felt this would somehow be an improper thing to ask. Instead she opted for staring at her tea in silence. It wasn’t really much better than her other option but at least this way she wouldn’t get caught staring at Narcissa again. She only looked up when the woman opposite her coughed lightly again.

“Ms Granger, is something troubling you?” She asked quietly. “I know we’re hardly close but if there’s something on your mind or… or if you have a better use of your time than sitting having tea with an old witc-”

“You’re not old!” spluttered Hermione, effectively cutting Narcissa off. She felt her ears burning and just knew they were betraying her by turning red. “You’re not old.” she said again, more calmly this time round.

“Ms Granger I can assure you I know my own age. I’m old enough to be your mothe-”

“Nonsense!” Hermione interrupted again, her teacup clattering back into her saucer. She knew that if Narcissa said anything about being a mother then her mind would drift again and then she would really be up the creek without a paddle. “Wizards and witches can live for over a century! You’re not even halfway. Barely even middle aged really!”

_Get your shit together, Granger! You’re babbling._

Narcissa gave another one of those rare smiles, one that actually reached the blue of her eyes, and chuckled. “You’re very sweet to say so, Ms Granger. But really, if you have other matters to attend to, please, by all means attend to them. I wouldn’t want to distract you from your work.”

Hermione managed to recover herself somewhat at the mention of work and straightened in her seat. “No, Ms Black, I’m actually here on Ministry business.” Narcissa raised an eyebrow. “Which,” Hermione added quickly, “is good because I was coming here for tea anyway. Two Nargles one stone.”

Narcissa sat back in her chair and waved her hand gracefully to encourage Hermione to continue, amusement dancing in her eyes oh so briefly. “Go on, Ms Granger.”

“Call me Hermione, please. I’ll start feeling like I’m back in School if you keep calling Ms Granger.” Hermione gave a small, nervous laugh. She had felt it before but now that Narcissa had her magic back she could sense the sheer power wafting off the woman. She was beginning to feel intimidated under the cool blue gaze of the witch opposite.

Narcissa quirked her lips ever so slightly before motioning again. “Okay, please continue, _Hermione_.”

A sense of relief and something she couldn’t quite identify washed over her as she heard Narcissa drop some of the formality between them. She didn’t linger on the notion though, switching into business mode to stop her face from flushing.

“I’ve been doing some research, Ms Black. About your divorce.”

“I really would rather we didn-”

“I know, I know!” Hermione cut her off once more. Narcissa was starting to see a pattern forming. “ _But_ , I couldn’t help looking into things. I didn’t realise wizarding marriages were so different to Muggle ones to dissolve. So I was wondering why your divorce proceedings were taking so long.”

Narcissa’s face darkened at the mention of the divorce and Hermione could have sworn the flames in the fireplace had flickered at the same time.

“So I made some enquiries at the Department of Magical Relations and it helped me understand the predicament you’re in.”

“Yes, they don’t make it easy to dissolve pureblood marriages…” Narcissa said quietly, eyes darting down to the tea in front of her. The liquid changed colour slightly and she could smell the chamomile that now filled it.

“They really don’t.” Hermione continued, not seeming to notice the change in Narcissa’s demeanor or her tea. “But I think I can pull some strings and assist.”

Narcissa’s gaze rose to look at the woman across from her. Her eyes daring, for once, to meet Hermione’s. “Why would you offer to help me with my divorce?”

“Because,” Hermione said, not completely unaware of the soft presence pressing at the front of her mind. “You deserve better than being stuck tied to Lucius Malfoy for the rest of your life. You deserve a chance.”

Narcissa remained silent, overwhelmed both by the words Hermione spoke and the ones she thought. _You deserve so much better than him. You’re worth more than that. You deserve a chance at happiness._

It was startling to hear the tone of the voice match up with that of the mind. It wasn’t something Narcissa had felt in a long time, that genuine will to help. She shook her head. Genuine as the girl’s will was, there was no way she could get everything in place that was needed.

“You really are very sweet, Ms Grang- _Hermione_.” She said, allowing her gaze to drift away from Hermione’s once more. “But there are a number of elements that need to be in place for that to happen. The Heads of House for one, whilst I am the Head of House Black the House of Malfoy will not be able to be represented.”

“I thought you’d say that.” Hermione smiled. “I’m aware that Lucius is no longer the Head of House due to being incarcerated. But I’ve written to Draco and I’m confident he will attend as the Head of House Malfoy.”

Narcissa laughed bitterly. “I sincerely doubt that. Draco doesn’t want anything to do with me or his father since the war ended. He returned my last four letters unopened. Nothing could return him from France, I’m afraid.”

“Oh he will.” Hermione replied confidently. “Your son owes me. And he owes you too. Trust me, Narcissa, please. I can help you sort this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again folks!
> 
> Just a quick note to say that you're all wonderful for continuing to read this little mammoth of mine! I hope you've enjoyed this latest chapter as i struggle away trying to wrangle Chapter Nine into submission.
> 
> As always, please feel free to leave comments and let me know what you think. 
> 
> Bet_on_black


	7. Dearly Beloved

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again lovely people! It's Wednesday morning and for some reason I've chosen Wednesdays as the day to give you new chapters. 
> 
> I've spent this last week working away on chapter 9 for you all (worry not, chapter 8 is drafted already). It's kind of turned into some kind of almighty beast and is *currently* 9,500 words long... soooooo I might have some editing to do on that one before it gets to you!
> 
> Thank you all so much for your comments, kudos, and general wonderfulness. You're all amazing and I'm just so glad you're still enjoying the story. I promise you there is going to be more of our fantastic witches together soon. There may even be... *~*flirting*~* soon. I know, you're shocked. I'm shocked. Hermione and Narcissa are shocked. SHOCK EVERYWHERE.
> 
> So yeah... I'm rambling now. Enjoy the next chapter and leave me comments if you feel like it 
> 
> Bet_on_Black

To say the atmosphere in the room was tense would be an understatement. And that was before the Dementor came in.

Draco Malfoy stared broodingly across the room, decidedly not making eye contact with anyone else. He begrudged being back here, back in London. But Granger had been very persuasive when she had gotten in touch. The reminder that, had it not been for her, he would most likely be dead. Potter and Weasley would have left him to die. Left him to burn just like... _Crabbe_.

He swallowed thickly. The memories of that night had never left him. He knew that if she hadn’t screamed at the boy wonder and his pet Weasel to go back for them then he wouldn’t be here to be annoyed at her. That didn’t mean he couldn’t still be annoyed though.

He hated it. At least in France no one really knew who he was so he could blend in with the other wealthy wizards of Toulon. Being back in Britain meant everyone knew him or at least knew his family. He hadn’t been back in the country since his trial where he was exonerated by none other than Potter himself. The golden boy had given him another chance, he had to admit that. But that didn’t mean he had to stay in the country where so many loathed him for just his name.

He leant his head back against the wall and closed his eyes for a moment. It was only fair, he supposed, that he try and do that for his mother. In France he was anonymous because no one really knew _Malfoy_ from _Malmert_. But his mother, she had been stuck with that name against her will all this time. This, at least, was one thing he could do for her.

Draco’s eyes snapped open again as the door to the small room opened and Granger bustled in followed by…

“Mother.” The word slipped out like a whisper as the tall, elegant frame of his mother came into view. Her blue eyes met his grey and shimmered with emotion. She made to rush towards him but stopped herself quickly, trying desperately to maintain some of that pureblood poise she was so renowned for.

“Draco.” She said in an equally quiet voice, her hand twitching as though to reach out and stroke his face like she did when he was a boy. “How are yo-”

“UNHAND ME!” a man roared from the corridor, seemingly stumbling away from someone. The voice grew louder until Lucius Malfoy entered the room with Harry rushing behind him. “I am Lucius Abraxas Malfoy! I will _not_ be manhandled by some… some _child_!”

“Oi!” Ron yelled at him as he entered the room followed by a looming, rattling Dementor. A chill swept the room and Draco felt the cold sink into his very bones. “He’s not some kid, he’s the Deputy Head Auror.” Ron continued, seemingly unaffected as his terrier patronus pounced around him just as angry as his caster.

“If you’re all quite done.” Lavender Brown’s voice came from the door to the adjoining room. “I’d like to get this over with quickly. I’ve a lunch date to be getting to, you know?”

Draco rolled his eyes and he could have sworn his mother gave a small shaky smile as she was guided into the room by Hermione.

They took their places quickly, Lavender at the head of the room where there was a small lectern and several strands of glowing unicorn hair. Narcissa stood on one side of the lectern, her soon-to-be ex-husband on the other, and the Dementor hovering ominously behind them both. Draco stood off to his father’s side and Hermione behind his mother. Harry and Ron stood by the door, keeping their eyes and wands leveled on the Dementor.

“Is this everyone?” Lavender asked with a quick look about the room. “Right! Dearly beloved”

Ron snorted loudly until he was nudged sharply by Harry.

“We are gathered here today to dissolve the marriage of this witch and this wizard.” She gestured to both Narcissa and Lucius.

“This is ridiculous, Narcissa. End this farce now.” Hissed Lucius across the lectern. Narcissa didn’t register his words. She was focusing on her hands, willing them not to shake. Her whole body was trembling as Lavender continued with her ceremony.

“As is customary with the marriage rites of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, the marriage can only be dissolved by mutual agreements of both Houses and confirmation from a Dementor that there is no love left in the marriage. Does the Head of House Black agree to these terms?”

She turned to consider Narcissa and the witch managed a small nod and a whispered “Yes.”

“And does the Head of House Malfoy also agree?”

“I most certainly do not!” Lucius sputtered but the question had not been directed at him. Lavender was focused on Draco.

He lifted his eyes to take in both his parents. His father, still tall and arrogant as he ever was despite the wasting evident in his face showing the impact of the years spent in Azkaban. His mother, resolute but shaking from the cold, her blue eyes looking to him almost pleadingly.

“I do.” he replied evenly, focusing solely on his mother, seeing the relief flood her eyes before she turned back to face Lavender.

“Will the couple please present their wand arms?” Lavender asked, raising her wand to direct the strands of unicorn hair to form a series of intricate knots around Lucius and Narcissa’s hands. The knots pulled tight and forced the pair to hold hands as it then bound them both to the lectern. Lucius tried to pull himself free but then the Dementor began it’s approach to the couple.

Lavender looked deep into the depths of the Dementor’s hood, almost as if she could see a face in there, and directed it. “As is custom for the Sacred Twenty-Eight, please confirm there is no love left in this union.”

The Dementor made a dramatic swoop and for a moment Hermione thought it was going to perform the kiss on one or both of them. But it soon drew up again in a loud rasping breath. It began circling the couple, its glistening, scabbed hands opening and closing into clenched fists as though it wanted to do more than perform this small act. As the Dementor grew closer to Lucius he began cowering, tears welling in his eyes as he was forced to relive his worst memories for the creature. When it came to Narcissa’s turn she began shaking uncontrollably, sweat beading on her forhead and openly weeping as it crept ever closer. She couldn’t form any words but her skin whitened until it was almost blue and her eyes rolled backwards. “N-n-n-n-no” she whimpered, slumping forwards on the lectern.

The Dementor reached a grey hand towards her, the other reaching up to its own hood as if it meant to pull the garment back. Its hand was nearly on the witch when a silver white fox bounded in between the hand and the woman, it’s hackles raised and teeth bared. The hand was snatched back almost immediately and the Dementor turned it’s hooded head towards Hermione in the corner who stood with her arm outstretched, wand directing the fox to guard Narcissa.

“Lavender, I think the Dementor has made it’s confirmations, don’t you?” she growled, rage simmering beneath her skin that the process had been allowed to go this far.

“Hhmph!” Lavender sniffed but stepped forward and waved the Dementor off. “Following the Dementor’s confirmation I can now say, by the power vested in me by the Ministry of Magic, I now pronounce you no longer husband and wife!” The strands of unicorn hair burst into flame and both participants yelped and pulled their hands back. Narcissa pulled back so fast she nearly toppled over until Hermione steadied her with a hand at her back.

“It’s okay,” she murmured and made to hug the woman but stopped at the last minute, changing it to a pat on the shoulder. “It’s okay. That’s it over. You’re free of him. You did it!”

Narcissa looked up into Hermione’s deep brown eyes and felt a small moment of calm take over. “Yes… I… Thank you.”

She turned to see her son but he was already walking out the door, ignoring the loud protests of his father behind him. “Draco! Draco come back! What have you done? Answer me, boy! Answer ME!” Lucius bellowed, all the while attempting to shake off the tight grip both Harry and Ron had on him.

“Come on, Malfoy. Back to Azkaban with you.” Harry said through gritted teeth, fighting to keep Lucius in his grip. “Ron, get the Dementor will you? I’ll deal with this one. _Incarcerous!_ ” Thick cords sprang out of Harry’s wand and wrapped tight around Lucius’s squirming body, sending him down to the floor with a thud. He waved his wand again and Lucius was pulled upright by one of the cords so that Harry could move him along the corridor with greater ease.

Ron stood at the door staring at Hermione with her hand still on Narcissa’s shoulder. His eyes narrowed at the sight until his terrier patronus yipped at him and he remembered the Dementor. “Good boy,” he whispered to the silver dog, “round him up for me, will ya?” He took one last questioning look at the pair of witches before marching back out the room behind the Dementor.

In the silence that followed Hermione realised her hand was still on Narcissa’s shoulder. She nearly gave it a squeeze until Lavender’s high pitched voice startled her into letting go entirely.

“I don’t think he liked that very much, do you?”

“Who?” Hermione asked.

“Ron. He doesn’t like seeing you with anyone else. He had that look in his eye. Used to have it all the time back in Hogwarts. Especially when Krum was still about. Oooh… he used to get so _furious_ when he saw him lurking near you in the library!” Lavender was relishing this, it was clear. “I bet you’ll be having words later about all” she gestured widely with her hands in Hermione’s direction “ _this_.”

Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes. “For the last time. Ron and I are not together. And also, _this_ ” she made her own gesture, “isn’t anything. This is work. So keep your nose out if you like it the shape it is.” Hermione snapped back, feeling faintly like she was echoing the Weasley twins in some way.

Narcissa arched an eyebrow at the interaction but decided not to question it right at this minute. It was clear there was some kind of spat between the former classmates that involved the blood traitor Weasley but now was not the time to dig down into it. Later perhaps.

Once Lavender had left the room and it was just the two of them Hermione turned to Narcissa and asked “Are you okay?”

Narcissa didn’t know what she had been expecting but somehow a former enemy of her and her family asking if she was okay wasn't it. She paused a moment before pulling herself together. “Yes. I do believe I am. Or at least I will be. Thank you Ms Granger.”

Hermione beamed at her and for a moment Narcissa felt a tiny familiar rush that reminded her of both the early rays of dawn and the depths of a storm. She shook her head as though to shake the vague thoughts away. “I mean it, Ms Granger. It’s been hell knowing I was attached to that… that _man_. The world isn’t all sunshine and roses but at least that particular cloud has come to pass. I’m in your debt, once again Ms Granger.”

Hermione laughed quietly. “Not at all _Ms Black_. Consider it another gift from the Ministry. You were owed something for our behaviour towards you recently.”

Narcissa allowed a small smile to pass her usual shield against the world. “The Ministry has never been so generous.” She sighed then, realising that the excursion was coming to an end. “I suppose we had better head back to Black Manor, Ms Granger. My prison will be missing me.”

Hermione’s smile faded but she nodded and held out her hand. “Apparation? I suspect there will be a bit of a crowd at the floo.”

Narcissa nodded, grateful that Hermione had thought about the press that would be inevitably lurking. “That would be most agreeable, Ms Granger. I have no doubt that Rita will be buzzing about somewhere.”

She reached out but bypassed Hermione’s hand altogether. Choosing instead to loop her arm through Hermione’s. “My apologies for the closeness Ms Granger. I’m feeling a bit weak after being near that foul thing.”

Hermione smiled, “I bet the Dementor wasn’t terribly pleasing to be near either.” and disapperated the pair of them out of the Ministry.

When they arrived back at the Manor Hermione chose to walk Narcissa back up the sprawling drive to the front door, painfully aware of the fact that Narcissa had yet to let go of her arm since they apparated on to the grounds. She could feel the heat and the magic emanating off of the witch. It made her reluctant to break the contact despite the strange tingling it caused through her body.

“Well,” she said as they walked up the steps to the front door. “I should probably be heading back to the Ministry. Paperwork to file and the like.” She gave Narcissa’s arm a quick squeeze as she gently pulled her arm from Narcissa’s.

“Of course, yes, of course.” Narcissa replied, trying to keep her disappointment from her voice.

“Will you… Will you continue with your visits?” She could have hexed herself for how nervous and needy the question came out and she quickly followed up. “Just so I know whether or not to order more tea.”

_That was hardly a great recovery_. She chastised herself mentally.

“If you’d like?” Hermione replied. “I could certainly do with some more intelligent conversation than I get in the office.”

“Well, if it’s intelligent you’re after then look no further! The Sorting Hat very nearly placed me in Ravenclaw, you know.” Narcissa quipped and was pleased to see that it brought a smile to Hermione’s face.

_When had she started caring if the girl smiled?_ She wondered but quickly pushed the thought to the back of her mind as Hermione replied.

“Excellent!” She nearly bounced on the balls of her feet in anticipation. “When suits?”

“Oh, I’ll have to check my very busy schedule, naturally, Ms Granger.” Narcissa replied with another one of her rare smiles rising to the surface. “Same time as usual?”

“It’s a date.” Hermione replied with glee and then realised what she had said. “A date for tea and conversation that is.” The words rushed out of her mouth in panic. “Tea and conversation.”

Narcissa only paused for a moment before letting her next question rush forth. “Tea and conversation and… will you teach me how to cast a patronus?” A tiny speckle of red spread across her pale cheeks. “I’ve never been able to cast one and well… Yours helped a great deal today.”

“Of course.” Hermione replied simply, her smile almost blinding in its brightness. “I’d love to.”

Narcissa flitted her gaze down to her shoes and then turned to the door to make her exit. Not daring to face Hermione’s beaming face again. “Thank you. Until Tuesday, Ms Granger.”

Before Hermione knew it Narcissa had entered the Manor and closed the door.

“Tuesday.” She said softly in confirmation to herself, feeling the blush rush up her face. “Absolutely. Tuesday.” She spun on the spot and disapperated back to the Ministry.

On the other side of the door Narcissa waited to hear the faint pop that confirmed Hermione had left and then, only then, allowed her legs to succumb to their shaking as she sank to the floor.

“Tuesday.” She breathed like it was some kind of mantra and lent her head back against the oak door. "Tuesday..."

  
  



	8. Defence Against The Dark Arts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one turned into a bit of a mammoth chapter and I couldn't find a place to separate it. So please enjoy many many thousands of words in one chapter. It won't happen again. Probably. Maybe. Hopefully...
> 
> Also, I went back through all the chapters and renamed them on the basis that chapters nine and ten ended up getting chapter titles. 
> 
> Once again, thank you all so much for your comments, kudos, bookmarks, and general wonderfulness. You're all amazing and deserve puppies*. I was absolutely gobsmacked this week to see this fic had gone to over 2k hits. i genuinely thought this might eventually make 200 hits and then that would be me. So thank you all for reading!
> 
> Now, if you don't mind, I need to go wrangle with chapter eleven...
> 
> Bet_on_Black
> 
> *puppies will not be supplied. Bet_on_Black is not liable for any missing puppies and even if she were then she'd keep all the puppies to herself.

Hermione apparated straight into her office and immediately slumped into her chair. She covered her face with her hands and groaned into the soft skin. _What the hell was that?!_

She closed her eyes, allowing the darkness to swallow her for a moment until the memory took its place.

_Narcissa standing at the lectern, trying so hard to remain poised and elegant, but the tremor in her hand obvious as she took her now ex-husband’s hand. The way she had begun to shake as the Dementor had drifted towards her. The beads of sweat that had gathered at her golden temples. Hermione’s eyes had narrowed in on her and captured every single detail as the Dementor swooped ominously on the couple._

_Her own skin had prickled with the cold and she fought desperately to keep those memories from seeping back into her mind. The closer the Dementor had gotten to Narcissa the worse it had gotten. It would have been fine if it had just stopped there but it had continued on and then Narcissa was pleading and Hermione could only remember her eyes. Those cold blue eyes from all those years ago that had watched on. Her scar prickled under her robes as she remembered how she had begged. Pleaded. Said almost anything to make the pain stop as Bellatrix had hovered over her and carved that hate filled word into her skin. The only thing that had dulled the pain was the intensity of Narcissa’s gaze on her. Her face had remained cold and impassive. But the eyes… The eyes had said something more to her._

_Before she had known what she was doing she was thinking of that moment which was filled with so much pain and despair but also something else… Something not quite tangible that had sat in Narcissa’s eyes that day. Her fox patronus had lept forth from her wand unbidden and bounded towards the present-day Narcissa, providing a shield from the Dementor that seemed so intent on making Narcissa suffer. And she had felt such_ anger _. She didn’t know where it had come from but she couldn’t abide that thing being near Narcissa for a moment longer. She had to make it stop._

The door to her office banged open and her eyes snapped open in time to see Scrivens march in with a buff folder in hand. “Granger, this just came for you by express owl. Fenwick files. McGonagall has set up a meeting for you on Monday and Weasley on Tuesday.” The old warlock said gruffly, tossing the file on the desk in front of her. “But don’t take too long on it will you? You’ve got actual Restitution work to be getting on with after this Hogwarts thing is dealt with.”

She gave a quick nod of the head. “Of course. I’ll get it done asap boss. You can count on me.”

The old warlock’s face softened slightly. “I know you will. You’re the best I’ve got Granger. It’s just madness out there.” He gestured to the wider office “The Bodgwell case has reared its ugly head again and I could do with someone competent keeping an eye on that lot.”

Hermione smiled. Typical Scrivens, all gruff and bluster but underneath was a man who just wanted his team to do well. Between the two of them they were raising a new generation of Magical Restitution Officers. But dear Merlin did they need their hands held.

“Bodgwell bounced back eh? Don’t worry, I’ll be right on it.”

The warlock nodded on his way out “‘Preciate it.” he mumbled as he closed the door behind him.

Hermione stared at the folder on a desk for a second, letting the last of her memories from earlier fade away, before opening it and starting to read.

Name : Fenwick, Bryce Jason

D.O.B : 03/09/1962

Birthplace : West Mifflin Maternity Unit, Pittsburg P.A.

Blood Status : Half-Blood (M - No-Maj, F - Wizard)

B. Fenwick has been arrested a total of 7 times. 3 counts of pickpocketing No-Majes over the course of 16 months. 2 counts of misuse of No-Maj artifacts (1 aggressive ‘ironing board’, 1 whistling ‘light-switch’). 2 counts of illegal dragon breeding (2 Peruvian Vipertooth eggs seized before hatching).

No known affiliation with criminal associations. Has always surrendered wand when requested. Approved for transfer to United Kingdom.

**Magical Congress of The United States of America**

It wasn’t much to look at really. The folder included a couple more sheafs of parchment pertaining to the various arrests but nothing really jumped out at her. By all accounts he wasn’t much worse than Mundungus Fletcher. A bit of a dodgy character but overall relatively harmless. On paper he came across as a prime candidate for Magical Restitution. Although she wished to Merlin that the US wouldn’t just approve wizards for transfer without speaking to the British authorities. It caused a nightmare at the border by all accounts.

She sighed and sat back. She’d need to get a memo to the border asap if she was due to meet him on Monday. Professor McGonagall would most likely have approved the paperwork at her end but unless Hermione gave Ministry sign off he could be sitting at the border terminal all weekend. She pulled out a sheet of memo paper from her office drawer and scrawled a quick note to Deputy Chief Niquit of the Border Force to smooth the way for Fenwick entering the country if he wasn’t here already.

_D.C Niquit,_

_You have or will have an American by the name of Bryce Fenwick apparating in at some point soon. He’s in the process of being appointed to the Hogwarts teaching staff and I’m due to meet with him and the Headmistress on Monday. Please ensure he’s given a portkey to Hogsmeade. No additional apparition allowed at this time. He’s still to be interviewed by myself and Auror Weasley. One of us will lift the restrictions once we’re satisfied he can remain._

_If he’s not permitted leave to remain then he’ll be punted back to you sharpish. I’ll confirm in writing for you either way._

_Yours,_

_H. Granger_

_Magical Restitution Officer_

_Ministry of Magic_

She gave the note a quick stamp with the office seal and then waved her wand to allow the memo to assume its airplane form. With another flick of her wand the door opened and the memo sailed out.

“Right.” she muttered to herself. “Fenwick on Monday, Narcissa on Tuesday, then on to the Bodgwell case…” She looked up at the clock on the wall and saw that it was past five already. “Sod it.”

Her cloak zoomed off the peg by the door and fitted itself on her body as she stood from her desk. Whatever was going on with the Bodgwell case could wait until next week. She took a pinch of floo powder from the little wooden box above her personal fireplace and threw it into the flames. “Home!” she called into the fire as the flames engulfed her.

Hermione had spent the entire weekend trying not to think on her last encounter with Narcissa. She had failed entirely in that regard, of course, but she had tried. In the end she had taken out a small pensieve in her living room and deposited the memory in the stone bowl. At first she had allowed the memories to play out in front of her, much to the amusement of her pet beagle, Treacle. He kept bouncing up at the bowl when it came to the part where Hermione had unleashed her fox patronus. Hermione assumed it was because he wanted to play with the ethereal fox and she ended up casting a patronus so the two could bounce harmlessly at each other. Eventually she had decided to delve into the memory itself and watch it from several different angles. Infuriatingly, no matter where she watched the ceremony from in her memory, she was no further forward in her reasoning for why she had done that.

It didn’t make sense from an outsider's perspective. But somehow, deep inside, Hermione _knew_ there was a good reason for her reaction. She just didn’t know what that reason was. It was maddening. It took until late on Sunday afternoon for her to stop staring at the semi-transparent figures in the memory. She had shaken herself mentally. She needed to have her head in the game for her meeting with Fenwick and McGonagall the next day.

When Monday morning came it was a relief. She at last had a reason to leave her small London flat and be out doing what she loved most - work. She stopped in quickly at the Ministry to make sure there were no urgent owls awaiting her attention and then immediately floo’d to McGonagall’s office.

When she stepped out into the Headmaster’s office she was greeted by the woman herself with a familiar smile and the offer of tea. She accepted the offer and sat opposite her former Professor, noting that they seemed to be alone for now.

Apparently anticipating Hermione’s question Professor McGonagall began “Ms Granger, you’ll notice that we are just two at the moment. Mr Fenwick is currently on his way up from Hogsmeade. My thanks to you for organising his portkey from the border.”

Hermione waved the thanks off with a shake of her head. “Not a problem, Professor. All part of the job.”

The old witch smiled again “Still, I appreciate you thinking of it. I doubt Mr’s Weasley or Potter would have thought to memo ahead _before_ Mr Fenwick had arrived.”

Hermione gave a small chuckle. She wasn’t wrong, both Harry and Ron would most likely have waited for an owl to say that he had arrived before thinking to give instructions. By which time the poor man would have been stuck at the border for at least an hour or so, if not more.

“So,” Professor McGonagall continued, “did you find anything of interest in Mr Fenwick’s file?”

“Oh he’s interesting alright. He kind of reminds me of a cross between Mundungus Fletcher and Hagrid.” Hermione laughed. “Little dodgy but predominantly harmless. He’s never been arrested for a violent crime, only misdemeanors and a touch of illegal dragon breeding. Nothing the School hasn’t seen before. I’d say so long as today’s meeting goes well he should be a good fit for the School.”

“Excellent, I’m pleased to hear it.” A small puff of purple smoke appeared from a brass instrument on her desk, distracting both the witches. “It would appear Mr Fenwick is on the grounds. I expect he’ll be here in a minute or two with Fillius. Any last minute questions for me before I introduce you?”

“Yes, actually.” said Hermione, “However did you come across him? Was the post widely advertised or was he recommended? If you don’t mind my saying so Professor, he seems an odd choice given how many witches and wizards have recent experience with fighting the Dark Arts.”

Professor McGonagall placed her finger tips together in a pyramid and regarded Hermione over the rims of her glasses in a way that only a teacher could do.

“He came with a rather interesting recommendation actually. An old colleague of mine from my days with the DMLE came across him in his travels across America. He was in the south, somewhere near the border with Mexico, when he encountered a rogue Lethifold. They’re much like Dementors you see, except they tend to attack in the dead of night and suffocate their prey. Well, the Lethifold was lurking on the outskirts of a small town, apparently headed towards a barn where some farmhands slept when Mr Fenwick lept from some nearby bushes and cast the most brilliant patronus that sent the thing slinking back into the shadows. He was so impressed that he invited Mr Fenwick to travel with him for a while. It would appear that he is deeply skilled when it comes to dealing with dark creatures and non-beings. His defensive spellwork is also rather impressive by the sounds of it.”

Hermione nodded, taking in the tale with interest. She had read about Lethifolds, of course, but she had never met anyone who had actually encountered one. “He certainly sounds an interesting character, Professor.”

A further puff of smoke came from the brass instrument, startling the pair out of their conversation.

“I do believe Mr Fenwick is here now.” Professor McGonagall raised her wand and the door to her office swung open to reveal the tiny Professor Flitwick with a tall, muscular man with a dark moustache and goatee.

“Professor McGonagall” squeaked Professor Flitwick, “This is Mr-”

“Bryce Fenwick, at your service!” the man boomed in a friendly American accent. He bounded into the office with a huge smile and shook both of their hands. “Pleasure to meet you both, pleasure! You have no idea how excited I am to be here. The mythical Hogwarts! Magical just magical!”

Professor McGonagall seemed somewhat taken aback by the man’s exuberance but gestured for him to take a seat all the same. “Mr Fenwick, thank you so much for agreeing to meet with us at such short notice. I realise the apparition of such a distance can be quite taxing. Can I interest you in a cup of tea?”

“You wouldn’t happen to have any coffee, would ya?” He said the word coffee like it was spelt ‘cawfee’ and Hermione found herself suppressing a snigger. “I love tea but you Brits do it way different. So I’ll stick to coffee for now.”

Professor McGonagall gave a slight smile and called forth a House Elf to bring her guest a coffee. Within seconds the elf was back and offering Fenwick a steaming mug of black liquid. He took a deep drink and smacked his lips appreciatively. “Oh yeah, that’s the good stuff!”

“Quite.” Professor McGonagall replied before moving on. “Mr Fenwick, I’ve invited a former student of mine along to speak with you before we begin our discussions. This is Her-”

“-mione Granger” Fenwick finished for her with a grin. “Oh I’ve heard all about you Ms Granger. You and the two boys seem to have single handedly won the war you guys were having! I was very impressed when I read of your exploits.”

“Oh.” replied Hermione, feeling her cheeks redden as the, admittedly handsome, wizard grinned at her. “I hadn’t realised our friends in America took much notice of our affairs.”

Fenwick leant back in his chair casually, looking for all the world like he was at home in the Headmistress’s office. “Most don’t if I’m honest with you. But a few of us like to know what our British counterparts are up to. I’m a bit of an Anglophile, myself. I’ve been following goings on in the UK for some time now.” He turned to Professor McGonagall and added “It’s why I was so pleased to meet your friend Mr Urquart down by Mexico. Very interesting guy, lotta stories!”

“Yes,” Professor McGonagall agreed. “Elphie does have rather a lot of tales to tell. But as I was saying, Ms Granger is a member of the DMLE, specifically in the area of Magical Restitution. We are aware of your previous convictions; mild as they are, and so under wizarding law here we have to ensure that you would be fit to practice as a Professor here.”

“Of course.” Fenwick beamed. “I’d give anything for a chance to work here. All this history! Ask any questions you need to Ms Granger. I’m an open book!”

Fenwick, it turned out, was not _exactly_ an open book. He very much tried to give that appearance but once or twice Hermione got the feeling he wasn’t telling her the whole truth, but not in such a way that it should prevent him from gaining employment.

More alarmingly though Hermione had the sense that Fenwick was actually far more skilled than he was letting on. At various points throughout their conversation she had felt something akin to a prickle on the inside of her skull. It was like her brain was being gently prodded at with a skewer. But everytime she started to suspect something was happening the feeling would disappear as if it had never been there and she was left feeling puzzled instead.

After an hour or so of questioning Hermione concluded that Fenwick would benefit from the opportunity for restitution at Hogwarts and would make a good appointment to the staff. She bid Professor McGonagall and Mr Fenwick good day and left them to discuss things further.

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When she returned to her office there was a small envelope with an elegant script bearing her name on her desk. She considered it for a moment before performing the usual dark detection charms on it. A force of habit following her run in with the readers of Witch Weekly in fourth year. When the charm had completed and there was no sign of anything untoward she carefully opened the envelope.

As soon as the small slip of paper inside was free of its paper prison it unfurled itself smoothly and allowed her to read the same elegant lettering

_Dear Ms Granger,_

_Just a note to say that I’m very much looking forward to your company and conversation tomorrow afternoon._

_Yours,_

_Narcissa Black_

When Hermione had finished reading the note from Narcissa the paper it was written on began folding in on itself until it resembled a perfect but small daffodil. She smiled to herself. That was a _very_ neat trick and a surprisingly sweet gesture from the woman Hermione was growing to consider as a friend. Looking at the paper flower caused a tiny tugging sensation in her stomach which she immediately dismissed as hunger. She felt like she should send something back but all her brain could muster were vague sentiments like ‘Great, see you then!’ and ‘Cool, can’t wait!’. Neither of which would do for a reply to Narcissa. And then there was the presentation of the whole thing. She was a quick learner but with work and preparations for the Bodgwell case she didn’t have the time to master such an intricate party trick for a note.

She spent the rest of the afternoon trying to distract herself with work but often found herself staring at the paper flower and smiling to herself.

  
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The next morning Hermione made her way down to Level 9, to the Department of Mysteries. She walked down the cool dark corridors until she came to an unmarked door about three quarters of the way down the corridor. She gave a quick knock and entered, looking up and down the corridor to ensure no one saw. As always, the Department remained eerily empty.

She closed the door quietly behind her and approached the desk that occupied the small room. A note lay on the desk, facing towards her, which read “Back in two minutes, make yourself at home.” Hermione smiled to herself. Trust Luna to be running late. She perched on the edge of the desk, facing the door she had entered through and waited. A few moments later the door began to move to the side, slowly at first before picking up speed until it was just a blur in front of her. When it eventually slowed back down and came to a halt in front of her it had changed colour and appearance. Where before it had been a black door with a gold handle it now stood as a purple door with deep green vines wrapped around it and no handle.

One of the vines twitched and the door swung inward, bringing with it the sound of crickets, birdsong, and a strong waft of dragon dung. Luna padded through, barefoot as usual and smiled at the witch waiting for her.

“Hello Hermione. Lovely to see you again.” she said in that dreamy tone she always seemed to have. She hauled behind her an old leather bound trunk and hefted it up onto the desk beside Hermione. “It was just the one you wanted, yes?”

“Hi Luna, thanks so much for this. I owe you one! One is plenty, I can assure you.” Hermione replied, taking the opportunity to hug her friend. She pulled back abruptly. “Luna, what’s that smell?”

“Pixie urine!” Luna smiled brightly. “Easy way to sneak up on one, you know?” she tapped the trunk on the desk.

Hermione was almost certain that wasn’t the case but she had learned long ago that any attempt to tell Luna she was wrong about her approach to things was futile. Instead she smiled at her friend and just said. “What an interesting concept.”

Luna nodded and rummaged in the desk drawer for something. “Will you be seeing Ginny and Harry any time soon?”

“I expect I’ll probably be round at the weekend or at least an evening next week, why?”

“Excellent. Can you give this to them?” She handed over a small white box to Hermione. “It’s for James. I think he’ll like it.”

Hermione considered the box with equal parts curiosity and trepidation. “What is it? It’s not another Snargaluff pod is it? Because I think James might be a bit young to go planting things like that…”

Luna snorted with laughter. “Oh no, no Ginny told me if I did that again I’d be in trouble. No, this is just a little muggle trinket that I thought he might like.”

“Oh?” Hermione asked, definitely more intrigued now that she knew it shouldn’t be anything too dangerous.

“The Muggles call it a Tamagotchi, have you heard of it? It has a small creature inside it. If you press certain buttons you can feed it and play with it and the like. It’s very ingenious of them, managing to keep a creature in such a small box. I sometimes wonder if Muggles are more magical than we give them credit for…”

Hermione beamed at Luna. Sure, she didn’t really understand the science behind the game but it was a very sweet gift. “He’ll love it, I’m sure. Thanks again Luna. I’d best be going.” She gestured towards the trunk. “Will he be okay if I shrink the case? I don’t particularly want anyone seeing me lug this through the Ministry.”

“Oh he’ll be fine!” Luna replied, sweeping her long blonde hair off of her face. “If anything he’ll prefer it.”

“Excellent. In that case, _Reducio!_ ” she tapped the trunk with her wand and shrank it to the size of a matchbox before placing it in her pocket. She was halfway to the door when Luna spoke again.

“I think you’re doing the right thing, by the way. No matter what the others might think.”

Hermione paused at the cryptic comment but nodded her thanks all the same. “I’ll see you soon Luna.”

“Yes, I fear that may be the case…”

  
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Hermione decided to take the scenic route to Black Manor that afternoon, opting to apparate a couple of miles away from the estate and approach in her animagus form, a fox. As far as the Ministry and the wider wizarding world knew she did not have an animagus form. It was something she had worked on in secret and kept hidden for all but a select few following the war. Ginny and Harry knew as they had opted to do the same following the war but the rest of the Weasleys, including Ron, were unaware of the trio’s abilities. For Harry and Ginny it meant they could meet up secretly without the speculation of Daily Prophet articles following them everywhere, allowing them a chance to form a normal relationship out of the spotlight. Hermione had at first sought it out as an academic exercise when she returned to complete her seventh year at Hogwarts. But once she had finished her studies she found it suited her more to not have anyone know her movements, allowing her to locate her parents and restore their memories in peace. She had always intended that once she had done this she would register with the Ministry. However, she found that on the nights when her nightmares plagued her most there was a certain calm to be found wandering the streets of London in her fox form.

Within fifthteen minutes she found herself nudging open the Manor gates and slinked up the gravel path to the door. Only when she was on the doorstep to the Manor did she change back into her human form. She shook out her hair and checked that the miniaturised trunk was still in place in her pocket before knocking.

The door opened as it had last time, opening to reveal merry little flames dancing in each of the wall sconces. She entered more confidently than she had done previously, making her way to the drawing room where she usually met with Narcissa. The door was open when she reached it but Narcissa was nowhere to be seen. Instead, a door further down the corridor swung open and an almost smiling Narcissa glided out to meet her. Her eyes were bright and her lips were ever so slightly quirked upwards. She wore a set of Jade robes which were trimmed with sparkling silver and tiny specs of midnight blue. The fabric flowed so elegantly off of her body that it was difficult to tell where Narcissa ended and the robes began.

"Ms Granger," she greeted smoothly. "I'm _so glad_ you've gotten the hang of meeting in rooms with chairs but today I thought we'd take tea in the library, if that's okay with you?"

The comment might have embarrassed Hermione but the mention of a library had her full attention. Her eyes lit up at the thought of getting to be in _the_ Black Library. It had to be one of the oldest private collections of magical literature in Britain.

"I'd love to!" Hermione all but gushed in response.

Narcissa actually smiled then, her eyes glinting brightly in the torchlight. "I thought that might pique your interest. All through his Hogwarts years Draco complained about 'that bookworm, Granger'" she laughed. “It seems he was right after all.”

Hermione tried not to blush at the light teasing but was certain the tips of her ears reddened anyway. She followed Narcissa down the hall and into the room Narcissa had recently vacated to be greeted by a room that was at least two if not three stories tall. Each of the walls had a floor to ceiling bookcase attached with ladders that glided smoothly along the shelves unaided. A large full length window adorned one wall and Hermione was reminded of the library from Beauty and the Beast. She had watched that film over and over again during the summer holidays after her first year at Hogwarts; always longing to enter a library like Belle had. The whole room was breathtaking and Hermione found herself walking to the middle of the room and slowly spinning round to take it all in.

“This is beautiful…” she whispered, completely in awe of the collection in front of her.

Narcissa walked toward her, waving her wand smoothly as she did. “There’s more if you know the right incantations too.” Slowly but steadily more bookcases began to rise out of the floor, bringing with them hundreds if not thousands of books.

“How… How many books are there?” Hermione asked in a quiet, stunned voice.

“More than anyone could hope to read in a lifetime.” Narcissa said, equally quiet, moving behind Hermione as she watched the bookcases ascend. “Although I expect you could give it a good try.”

Hermione chuckled lightly. “I would never leave if this was my library.”

She felt Narcissa’s hand ghost the small of her back, directing her towards a couple of cosy armchairs and a round coffee table by the window. “By all means Ms Granger, feel free to stop by anytime you wish to peruse the Black Library.”

“Really?!” Hermione spun round on the spot feeling like she’d been given the greatest gift in the world. Her eyes found Narcissa’s and for a rare moment the two witches made eye contact. She felt a calm fall over her like a faint brush against her mind and she relaxed until Narcissa broke the connection by looking out the window to the vast grounds.

“You gave me something I never thought I’d get, Ms Granger. This is the least I could do in return.” she said softly.

The pair sat down opposite each other, Narcissa’s statement hanging in the air between them. After a moment or so Narcissa seemed to come back to herself and she conjured the tea set to appear in front of them. She poured Hermione’s cup first and allowed the cup to float up to Hermione’s hands before starting on her own. Hermione took a sip of her tea and nodded to herself when she tasted green tea. It was, once again, exactly what she would have chosen for herself in that moment.

“Thank you.” Hermione said, focusing her attention back on Narcissa.

Narcissa graced her with another one of her almost smiles and took a sip of her own tea. “You’re most welcome Ms Granger. Would you care for anything to eat at all? I’ve had my noon meal but I would be more than happy to arrange something for you if you’ve not had a chance yet?”

“I’m okay, thank you. I managed to have a bite to eat before I went to pick up something for this afternoon.”

Narcissa raised an eyebrow, encouraging Hermione to continue. Hermione reached into her pocket then and pulled out the miniaturised trunk, placing it on the floor to the side of the table.

“I thought we could practice patronuses today. So I had a word with a friend in the Department of Mysteries and she managed to secure me a Boggart we could practice on.” She gestured to the trunk which rattled ominously on the hard wooden floor. “Professor Lupin taught Harry to fight Dementors using a Boggart and I thought it might not be a bad idea for our studies. Would that be okay?”

“Ingenious.” Narcissa said, eyeing the trunk with intrigue and apprehension. “Allow it to assume the form of Fear itself. I’m impressed.”

“We can wait until you finish your tea though.” Hermione said as Narcissa stood up and walked into the middle of the room.

“Nonsense, Ms Granger. No time like the present.” Narcissa replied, her gaze steely as she continued to look at the trunk.

“Okay.” Hermione placed her cup down on the table and walked to join Narcissa in the middle of the library. “We’ll practice the incantation and the wand movements first if that’s alright with you. Then we can unleash the Boggart and see how you do.”

Narcissa nodded and took up a dueling stance opposite her.

“Okay.” Hermione began. “The incantation, as you probably know, is _Expecto Patronum_ . And the wand movement is like this.” She demonstrated a circular swirling movement for Narcissa to copy, which she did with ease. “But the really tricky bit is the thought you have to put behind the spell. It’s not enough to simply will your patronus forth to defend you. You have to focus on something happy. The happiest thought you can think of and keep that tight in your mind as you cast. Dementors feast on happy memories so by powering your patronus with one you make the Dementor feast on the patronus instead of you. If the memory is strong enough then the patronus can take a corporeal form, usually an animal, made of light which can then fight off the Dementor entirely. So, for example, I think of my parents and finding them after the war and the happiness in that moment when I restored their memories. And then I just put that behind my casting and you get this. _Expecto Patronum!_ ”

The silver fox darted forth from her wand in a brilliant flash of white, sprinting across the library and then back again, coming to a stop before the two witches. Narcissa took a step forth and lifted her hand to the ethereal form almost as if to stroke it.

“Beautiful.” she whispered before turning back to Hermione. “May I try?”

Hermione nodded the affirmative and pulled her patronus back out of sight again. Narcissa closed her eyes for a moment, filtering through her memories until she found one of Draco opening his presents on Christmas morning when he was younger and the delight on his face as he jumped on his very first racing broom.

“ _Expecto Patronum!_ ”

A thin silvery wisp escaped the tip of her wand and hovered in front of her for a moment before disappearing. Hermione clapped her hands excitedly.

“That was excellent!” She cried with glee.

Narcissa looked crestfallen though and stared at the spot where the thin mist had been. “But there wasn’t a shape to it… I doubt that would hold up very well against a Dementor.”

There was something very strange about seeing Narcissa Black looking disappointed, Hermione thought at that moment. A proud pureblood witch staring at the product of her magic in dissatisfaction like it had failed in some way. It made her want to hug her in the way that she would hug Harry or Ginny or even Luna if they had looked the same way. She very nearly did but pulled the action back quickly so it looked like she just had a strange twitch. It really wasn’t fair that Narcissa could change her intended movements so smoothly when she could not.

“It’s a start though.” Hermione said carefully, trying not to wound the woman’s pride too much. “And a much better start than some people have too. When the DA were learning patronuses it took some of our members _weeks_ to even get to this stage!” She smiled kindly at the woman. “It just takes practice and finding the right memory, that’s all.”

Narcissa nodded and once more took up her stance. She screwed her eyes up determinedly as she thought of her chosen memory. When she opened them she threw out her wand arm forcefully and cried “ _EXPECTO PATRONUM!_ ”

This time a thicker silver mist poured forth from her wand and formed a thin but obvious barrier in front of her. Hermione applauded her excitedly and grinned at Narcissa. “That was great! You really are a fast learner.”

Narcissa lowered her wand and allowed her faint shield to fade entirely, looking for all the world like that effort had exhausted some part of her. “That was… better. I suppose.” she conceded.

“It was so much better!” Hermione encouraged, summoning the trunk to her as she spoke. “I think you’re ready to tackle the Boggart now.”

Narcissa eyed the trunk warily before looking back to Hermione, who still stood there beaming at her. “You do like to throw your pupils in at the deep end, don’t you Ms Granger?”

“Pfft!” Hermione dismissed. “This is kiddie pool stuff. The Boggart can’t actually hurt you. If I wanted to throw you in at the deep end I would have brought a real Dementor.” She shuddered herself at the thought. “Not that I could do that. I hate the damnable things. I don’t know how the Aurors stand having to deal with them. They’re foul. When that one at the Ministry was getting near y- us, I couldn’t stand it. I hate them.”

“I too loathe the things. There are far too many things… Too many events I would rather not remember…” She drifted off, still staring at the shuddering trunk in front of them. She straightened then, falling back into her dueling stance and directing her wand at the trunk. “But this will not be as bad, you’re right. Let’s give it a try.”

Hermione walked around the back of the trunk so that she was facing Narcissa. “Okay, as we know Boggarts will focus on whoever is in front of them at the time. So, to avoid confusion, I’m going to open the trunk and then go into the next row of bookcases. That way it’ll focus solely on you and not get confused by me. But if you need me at any time just call for me and I’ll be right here to take over.” She gave Narcissa a reassuring smile as she reached for the clasps which held the trunk locked. “You’ve got this, Narcissa.”

She wrenched the lid of the trunk and darted away as quickly as she could to avoid the Boggart seeing her. The room was deadly quiet for a moment and Hermione wondered if the Boggart had gotten shy all of a sudden or if Narcissa had fainted. That all changed very quickly though. All of a sudden the room was filled with a terrible screaming. The kind of scream that hurt the ears and filled the heart with anguish. Narcissa’s shouts of “ _Expecto Patronum! Expecto Patronum! EXPECTO PATRONUM!_ ” could hardly be heard over the screams.

Eventually Hermione found that Narcissa’s casting had been replaced instead with a whimpered “No… No please. Not again… Anything but that! Anything. _Please_!”

Deciding that this wasn’t going to plan as she had hoped, Hermione rounded the corner of the bookcase ready to cast a patronus and take over. Only she wasn’t confronted with a Dementor as she had expected. Instead, lying on the floor in front of Narcissa was a teenage Hermione, sprawled out and bleeding from a horrible wound on her forearm. The rest of her body was beaten and bruised but the wound on her arm took prominence. The deep red gouges almost glowing across her skin like an angry fire. _Mudblood_.

The skin around the actual Hermione’s scar prickled. Without thinking she stepped forward and placed herself in front of Narcissa, who was now on the floor attempting to reach out a hand to the Boggart-Hermione, tears rolling down her face. Her eyes never left those of the Boggart-Hermione and she was whispering faintly. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…”

Hermione levelled her wand as the Boggart took notice of her and shifted before her eyes to take the form of a taunting, knife wielding Bellatrix Lestrange. The Bellatrix-Bogart began to saunter towards her exactly as the real one would if she were still alive. A wicked, manic grin pulling at her face to make it even more angular than it had been. Blood dripped from the knife in her hand.

“Well if it isn’t the _mudblood_ Granger!” Boggart-Bellatrix cried in Bellatrix’s childish sing-song voice. “Come to play have we? How about we have another chat? Girl to girl?”

“You’re not real.” Hermione said evenly. “You’re nothing but a memory. You can’t hurt me anymore.”

“Are you sure about that, deary?” Bogart-Bellatrix levelled, flicking the knife round in her hand until she clasped it between her thumb and fingers as though holding a pen. She drew the knife towards her face and flicked out her tongue at the blade but didn’t quite touch the blood that clung to the metal. “I could give you a matching one for your other arm?” She gestured towards Hermione’s un-scarred arm casually.

“You could try.” Hermione replied through gritted teeth. The Boggart-Bellatrix took another taunting step forward and Hermione narrowed her eyes at her before shouting “ _Riddikulus!_ ”

The Boggart-Bellatrix made to move forward, to lunge at Hermione, but instead tripped over her many layered black skirts and disappeared back into the trunk with a loud “CRACK!” Hermione waved her wand and the trunk snapped shut behind the Boggart, locking the thing inside. She turned to Narcissa then and crouched down beside her, allowing herself to rest a hand on Narcissa’s trembling shoulder. The witch snapped her eyes up to meet Hermione’s and the fear was clear to see, all walls lowered for once.

“It’s okay.” She whispered to the blonde witch. “It’s okay. It’s over now. You’re okay.” Hermione found herself rubbing small circles into Narcissa’s upper arm and shoulder. Something she could honestly say she’d never thought of doing before. She flicked her wand vaguely and summoned some chocolate from her cloak. “Here.” She pressed the chocolate into Narcissa’s hands. “Eat this. It’ll help, I promise.”

Delicately, as if she was afraid of hurting Hermione, Narcissa took the proffered chocolate bar, unwrapped it and popped two squares into her mouth one after the other. She tried to hand some to Hermione but she waved it off, insisting Narcissa needed it more. The younger witch opted to sit next to Narcissa on the floor of the library, continuing to gently rub Narcissa’s arm. If she had been brave enough she might have pulled the witch in for a hug to soothe her further but she felt she was already crossing a major boundary with this small act.

After a while Narcissa shifted uncertainly on the floor beside Hermione before leaning across to place her head on the other witch’s shoulder. Hermione suppressed a gasp of surprise and felt the woman relax into her as she looped her arm round Narcissa’s shoulders.

“You must think me terribly weak, Ms Granger.” she said quietly, breaking the silence of the library.

“No.” Hermione replied, trying but failing not to notice the faint smell of roses that came with having Narcissa in such close proximity. “It’s my worst memory too. I imagine it wouldn’t be terribly pleasant to witness.” she laughed shakily at the understatement. “I’m sorry. I should have thought… I just assumed you’d be like Harry and fear Fear itself. I didn’t think about how horrible that night must have been for you too. Of course that would have appeared instead of a Dementor.”

Narcissa pulled away from her then and stood up, offering Hermione a hand up too. “I’m afraid I don’t have the startling amount of bravery that Mr Potter appears to have. I have many many things to fear in this world before Fear itself.” she gave a half smile before her shields rose up again. “It’s growing late Ms Granger.”

Hermione looked to the window and saw for herself that the sun was beginning to set. “Oh.” she said. “I hadn’t realised how late it had gotten. I’m sorry for taking up so much of your time Narcissa.”

“Nonsense.” Narcissa replied, opting to ignore the familiar use of her name from the witch before her. “I appreciate your efforts, truly. But perhaps we might find an alternate method for our next attempt?”

Hermione let out a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. There would be a next time.

“I suspect neither of us would care to see my dear manic sister again so soon.” Narcissa added, her eyes darkening at the thought of the eldest Black sibling. “Or ever, for that matter.”

Hermione didn’t know how to respond to this brooding version of Narcissa that reminded her so much of Draco so opted for a silent nod as she gathered up her things. Once she had anything she turned back to find Narcissa staring out the window at the grounds again, apparently deep in thought.

“Well,” she began, catching Narcissa’s attention enough to draw her gaze from the window “I’d best be off. Thank you for the tea. I’m sorry about…” she waved at the trunk before minimising it again. “That.”

“Worry not, Ms Granger. Neither of us were harmed.” Narcissa returned kindly with a slight tired smile. “Until next time.” And with that she walked from the library into the depths of the Manor, trusting Hermione to find her own way out.

Hermione picked up the matchbox sized trunk and placed it back into her pocket before making her way out into the cool night air. She hadn’t thought she’d spent so many hours in Black Manor but it was clear by the dying light that she had done so. _How long had she and Narcissa sat on the library floor together?_

She made her way down the gravel path towards the iron gates, so lost in thought about her afternoon and the unexpected appearance of Bellatrix Lestrange that she didn’t notice the figure waiting for her on the other side of the gates. As soon as she crossed through she found herself being pinned against the gates by a familiar figure.

“‘Mione, what are you doing here?!” Ron growled at her from beneath his black Auror’s hood.

“Never you mind, Ronald.” she replied with equal force behind her voice. The idiot had her pinned by her wrists, trapping her wand against her forearm causing the point to dig in to her. “This is Ministry business.”

“What business does the Ministry have with Narcissa Malfoy? Huh? She’s a war criminal. Restitution shouldn’t be going anywhere near her. Least of all you!”

Hermione brought a knee up and shoved roughly at his stomach, forcing him to let go of her at last. “Restitution _does have_ a case with her. And where I go and what I do is of no concern to you anymore Ron.” She levelled her wand against him and backed away from him. “It never was.”

She turned on the spot to apparate as Ron shouted after her “Associating with a Malfoy will only get you hurt Hermione! They’re dark and they’ll turn you dark too!”

Hermione completed her spin and thought determinately of home, disappearing just as Ron opened his mouth to say something else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to be a massive tease. Your next chapter title is....
> 
> *drumroll*
> 
> The Crossed Wands


	9. The Crossed Wands (Part One)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I present to you dear readers, without comment, Chapter Nine - The Crossed Wands (Part One).
> 
> Enjoy :D

The Bodgwell case was turning out to be a bit of a calamity and as such Hermione had very little time to contemplate any of the happenings of Tuesday afternoon and evening. Instead she was running around after her interns trying to piece together what had actually gone down in Birmingham these past few weeks. 

Derek Bodgwell, a former case of theirs who they had thought had been reformed, had started going door to door in Birmingham selling things. At first it had been minor items like biting doorknobs and the occasional whistling kettle (which refused to stop whistling even if it had been taken off the boil). Nothing the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts department couldn’t handle. But then he had graduated on to things one might expect to buy down Knockturn Alley in the likes of Borgin and Burkes. Dark trinkets that when given to unsuspecting muggles would cause them to come out in horrible boils, sprout horns suddenly, or on one occasion develop an intense fascination with biting the necks of little old ladies in the middle of Tesco.

In short, it was an administrative nightmare. She’d already put a request in to the Auror’s to have someone collect him and bring him in for questioning. But for now she was trying to track back his movements and figure out how he had come off the straight and narrow. The first instance they’d been made aware of had happened just a little over a month ago, he’d sold a 56 year old muggle a vacuum cleaner that, instead of sucking up the dirt and dust would spew it out across the room until there was nothing left clean. It had been explained away as a mechanical failure when the Obliviators had attended, the muggle’s memories altered to accept this. A vague memory of Mr Bodgwell had been gleaned from the muggle prior to his memories being erased.

The next incident she could connect to him, as far as she could see, was during the installation of some new doors and windows at an elderly muggle’s residence. All the door handles had been replaced with biting doorknobs which had proceeded to snap at anyone who so much thought of opening or closing a door. For the most part these incidents were relatively harmless and easily fixed, but to Hermione they seemed to now be going down a much darker route rapidly. 

Bodgwell was, just this past weekend, implicated in the cursing of a muggle family of four in the Edgbaston area of Birmingham. The family had been found in their back garden each of them lying in a deep hole with nothing but the shovel they had used to dig said hole and a wooden beaded bracelet each. The bracelets proved to be imbued with dark magic that forced the wearer to dig their own grave and then lie down and wait for death. From an extensive search of their memories it appeared that the family had been lying in the holes for at least 24 hours, having been given the bracelets two days previously in the guise of a gift from a family member returning from holiday in Tenerife. The relative in question was still on the Spanish island, not due to return until the next Wednesday, so couldn’t have possibly given the gifts.

Hermione stared at the board in front of her, taking all this information in. She ran a hand through her hair. Bodgwell had been a nuisance prior, yes, but he had never been _dark_. The biting doorknobs and other things were par for the course with a wizard like Bodgwell. He was definitely cut from the same mold as Mundungus Fletcher but he wasn’t an intentionally cruel wizard. He just didn’t understand that muggle-baiting was inherently wrong.

“Angela, can you figure out Bodgwell’s movements in the run up to the Edgbaston incident?” she asked a passing intern with an arm full of paperwork. The stressed witch nodded and rushed away leaving a trail of papers behind her. 

Hermione perched on the edge of the table in front of the board and continued to stare. There was a gap between the minor incidents and the grave digging incident of about a week. How had he accelerated from biting doorknobs and backfiring vacuums to cursed objects? It was clear that something had happened in the week between these incidents and the only way they were going to clear that up is by speaking to the man himself.

“Scrivens!” she called across the chaotic office, catching the old warlock’s attention. “Have we had anything back from the Auror’s yet?”

Scrivens screwed up his face and shook his head as he made his way over to her, avoiding departmental memos that made to dive bomb him on the way. “Nothing yet. Potter says he’s sent Weasley out to get him.” He made an apologetic face, knowing how much Hermione tried to avoid working with Ron on anything these days. “I’ve asked that they just bring him in to us and we’ll handle it from there. He shouldn’t be a danger to us once his wand is confiscated anyway.” 

Hermione nodded. “It’s okay, Weasley is good. If they want to have him on hand for this I can handle it. Especially if Bodgwell has been in contact with a dark witch or wizard. Better safe than sorry, right?” she gave him a small smile, appreciative that he would think of her feelings in spite of the case.

“I didn’t think Bodgwell would turn like this, did you?” Scrivens asked, joining her on the table to stare down their information board.

“No…” Hermione replied in thought. “I maybe expected him to slip up a little on the more trivial stuff but I definitely didn’t see him going down this path. It doesn’t make sense… He moves to muggle-baiting to downright dark in the space of a week. It doesn’t make sense.”

“I take it you’ve got someone looking at his movements?”

“Angela is handling it now. Should we be looking at his movements post-Edgbaston too? What if he’s already moved on to something bigger or plans to once we’re done with him?”

Scrivens grunted in response and then called out across the office “Evensby! Find Watson and tell her to look into movements past Edgbaston. I want a full rundown of his movements right up until the Aurors bring him in. Best make a note that his movements are to be followed after we release him too. I don’t want him so much as scratching his nose without us knowing about it until this is all cleared up!”

A nervous looking man in his early 20s nodded so vigorously that his glasses slid to the tip of his nose and raced off in the direction Angela had headed. 

“Have you ever seen something like this before, sir?” Hermione asked quietly so as to not startle the interns around them.

Scrivens grunted and muttered just as quietly. “Not since the war. Something or someone has interfered with him for sure. This reeks of dark magic.”

Hermione nodded before standing up. “You’ll let me know when Weasley brings him in?”

“Of course.”

“Good, I’ll go see how we’re doing with his movements.”

* * *

Ron hauled Bodgwell into the interrogation room four hours later.

“What took you so long?” Snarled Scrivens, who had decided the moment he saw Ron give Hermione another one of his lovelorn looks that he would be taking the lead on this. 

Ron visibly bristled at the warlock and shoved a tatty and dishevelled looking Bodgwell into the only seat in the interrogation room. The chains of the chair instantly wrapped themselves around the man’s wrists and legs, much like the formidable chair down in the courtrooms.

“You didn’t tell me I was going after a sodding lunatic!” Ron growled back through gritted teeth. “He led me half-way across the bloody country before I could get near him! And then, when I did manage to get near him,” he paused to roll up the sleeve of his tactical robes, “he BIT ME! I mean, who even does that?!” 

Ron turned to Hermione so that she could see the bite marks on his forearms. The wounds weren’t particularly deep but it was obvious that Ron still hadn’t mastered simple healing spells.

Hermione rolled her eyes, reaching for Ron’s arm as her wand slid into her other hand. “Honestly, I wish they would teach you Auror’s how to heal yourselves properly. _Episkey_!” 

Her wand emitted a faint flash and the wound closed before them until all that was left was the slight pink tinge of new skin. Ron gave her another one of his lopsided grins that he reserved only for her. “Thanks ‘Mione. I-”

“So where was he?” Hermione interrupted him, not wanting to hear his next words as she considered their prisoner.

“Hogsmeade. Stumbling out of the Hogs Head. Aberforth was screaming at him something rotten. Judging by the smell he managed to apparate straight into a cask of Firewhiskey.” Ron wrinkled his nose for added effect. 

“And he led you up and down the country?” Scrivens interjected.

“Yeah, Birmingham, Newcastle, somewhere in Wiltshire, Cornwall near the border point, Glasgow, some place in Kent, then finally Hogsmeade. Guess he was exhausted by then to land in the barrel. Lucky he didn’t splinch himself.”

“Right.” Scrivens cut in curtly. “Best you go write that all down. Find Watson and detail it for her. Don’t miss anything out. We want a full account of his movements.”

When Ron didn’t move he added “You’re dismissed Weasley. We can handle the interrogation from here.”

Ron looked like he was going to say something but a pleading look from Hermione sent him out the door to go find Watson. Before he exited he pulled out a gold galleon from his pocket and said “I’ve still got it. Just message me if you need me, Mione.”

Hermione gave him a stiff knot and tried to ignore the small tugging sensation in her abdomen seeing that Ron still kept his contact coin from their DA days. She knew that Harry and Ginny still had theirs, they had used them when James was born, but she thought Ron might have thrown his away or spent it by now. It was yet another sign that he hadn’t given up on them.

She shook her head and turned her attention to the matter at hand - the man chained to the only seat in the room.

“Mr Bodgwell, we’d like to ask you some questions.”

* * *

They questioned Bodgwell for 4 hours before they took a break. He didn’t give away much, if anything. But one thing was clear, sometime between him returning from a holiday in Sardinia and his arrival in Birmingham the following day someone had gotten to Bodgwell. When he refused to answer anything but the most basic of questions they had brought in an Obliviator to look through his memories. 

From there it was clear that Bodgwell wasn’t answering their questions because he didn’t want to. He wasn’t answering because he couldn’t. His mind was completely blank aside from the very clear instances where he was handing over the cursed items. Aside from those moments there was nothing but a thick grey fog.

Even his evasion and eventual capture by Ron was missing right up until the moment he was brought to the ministry. 

“This doesn’t make any sense!” Hermione groaned, leaning against the door of Scrivens’ office before making her way to sit across from him at his desk.

Scrivens nodded grimly. “It doesn’t, I agree. Someone or something has interfered with him but I can’t fathom what. We need DoM on this. They’ll have a greater knowledge of anything that could wipe a man’s memories like that without a trace.”

“I’ll get Luna on the case. In the meantime we should have the Obliviators take a further crack at him, see if they can get past the fog at all. You know what DoM are like. They’ll either do it straight away or you’ll not hear about it for weeks until there’s an Unspeakable sat at your desk.”

Scrivens laughed darkly and sat back in his seat. “I maintain you would have made an excellent Unspeakable, Granger. Or better yet, an Auror.” 

Hermione shook her head at her mentor. “Maybe once. But I think I do better work here, don’t you?”

“Of course! Don’t get me wrong, Granger. I’d fight anyone who tried to take you from my team. But sometimes I wonder if there’s more for you to be doing in the world than just being my deputy…” his voice faded and they sat in silence for a minute or two, Hermione pondering his statement. _Was there more she could be doing? True, she had always wanted to work in justice reform but then there were the House Elves and the Centaurs… And then there’s Narcissa. She still deserves so much better..._

“For now, sir, bringing about the reforms we have planned are my focus. But I hope to one day turn that focus on matters other than the wizarding world. I want to make a difference everywhere.”

Scrivens smiled kindly, knowing that he was lucky to have Hermione on his team. “Well just remember, Granger, there’s more to life than work too, okay? You’re allowed to have a life outside this office. Speaking of which,” he reached into his desk drawer and pulled out an expensive looking parchment envelope. “Spotted this lying on your desk when Weasley came in. Don’t worry!” he added hastily, seeing the look of shock on her face. “I’ve not opened it or read it. I wouldn’t do that to you. Just thought Weasley seeing this would be the last thing you needed today.” 

He handed the envelope across the desk and Hermione took it with both hands, recognising almost immediately the penmanship across the front. She fought the urge to rip the envelope open right then and there and instead tucked it into the inside pocket of her robes. 

“Thank you sir. I appreciate it.” she checked her watch, noting it was nearly five. “Alright if I head off? Or do you think we’ll have Bodgwell back up for questioning tonight?”

Scrivens waved her off with a small smile on his wizened face. “Off you go, Granger. If anything urgent comes up I’ll handle it. Don’t you worry.”

She thanked him once more and then made her way to her office, making sure to close and lock the door behind her. With shaking hands she approached her desk and retrieved the envelope from inside her robes. There was no mistaking that writing and just looking at it filled her stomach with nervous butterflies. _Why oh why did Narcissa’s handwriting have this effect?_

She slid her finger under the flap of the envelope and watched as the parchment neatly tore itself along the top. The letter inside gently removed itself from the envelope, unfolded itself, and then floated before her, waiting to be read.

_Dear Ms Granger,_

_Forgive me if this comes across as being a touch forward, but I wondered if you might accompany me to dinner tonight?_

_I have made reservations at The Crossed Wands in Islington for 6pm but you may come round any time after five._

_Consider this a small repayment of the debt I owe you for my magic and my divorce._

_I do hope you can make it._

_Yours,_

_Narcissa_

As she finished reading the letter neatly folded itself up until it, like the last one she had received at work, resembled a small perfect daffodil. It floated gently across the room to join the other on her desk, the pair of them forming their own perfect paper bunch. She stared at the flowers and felt her heart racing in her chest. The Crossed Wands was quite possibly the most exclusive restaurant in all of London, if not the UK. You didn’t just _get_ reservations there. Ron had tried to get reservations for them once when they had been going out but had been informed on numerous occasions that there was a three year waiting list. Even Ginny and Harry had only been once and that had been planned months in advance for Harry’s proposal.

The very fact that Narcissa Black could just, what, owl them? And there was a reservation made? It was beyond madness. But maybe she was getting ahead of herself. Maybe she’d had this reservation planned for a while? No… She couldn’t have. She’d been under house arrest since the end of the war…

“Purebloods!” she ranted into her empty office. Her anger was short lived though as the clock on the wall behind her ticked loudly as if to remind her of the time. She glanced up at it and cursed. If she was going to make it the Black Manor she needed to head out now. She grabbed the wooden box that contained the floo powder and took a pinch for the fire. 

“Home!” she cried before stepping into the emerald green flames.

* * *

A frantic twenty minutes later and Hermione’s fox form slinked up the gravel path to Black Manor. The fox paused on the doorstep looking uncertain until the Manor door swung open and then slowly padded inside. In the faint glow of the hallway Hermione decided to switch form, taking a moment at the base of the staircase to ensure her robes were sitting properly. She’d opted for a set of light blue robes, similar to the colour she’d worn to the Yule Ball in fourth year. Half a bottle of Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion had been deployed to wrangle her usually unruly hair into soft curls that fell by her face. She took a deep breath and then walked down the hall, noting that all but the library’s doors were closed. It was there that she found Narcissa sat quietly by the window, facing out into the grounds in a set of midnight blue robes and her near white blonde hair trailing down her back in a French plait. She turned at Hermione’s footsteps, a mild panic on her face that was quickly replaced by a soft smile and a glint in her eyes.

“I worried you might not come.” She said softly, almost shyly, if being shy was something Narcissa Black entertained. “Did you apparate right on to the doorstep? I thought I might see you coming from here.”

Hermione bowed her head slightly in an effort to hide the blush that was creeping up her neck to her cheeks. “I came in my animagus form. I find it easier sometimes to move around without being noticed.” She confessed to the blonde. “I never registered with the Ministry. After the war… I just wanted to be able to go about my day without being followed and pestered all the time.”

“The fox.” Narcissa replied with realisation, standing up slowly and gliding smoothly across the library floor towards her. “I should have known. Cunning. Quick thinking. Just a little bit _sneaky_.” She smiled as she reached Hermione’s side, her arm looping through Hermione’s. “Shall we, Ms Granger?”

Hermione swallowed thickly, hoping desperately that Narcissa didn’t notice the way her arm trembled at her touch.

“The Crossed Wands?” Hermione asked, berating herself the moment she asked. _Of course, you idiot! Where else?_

“The Crossed Wands.” Narcissa confirmed looking faintly amused.

Hermione tried to direct her mental focus away from the feel of Narcissa’s arm in hers and on their destination. She took a moment to breathe and then spun on the spot, disapperating the pair of them with a faint _pop_!

They reappeared in a small private rose garden lit by tiny golden balls of light that floated in the air. The smell of roasted garlic and a multitude of herbs drifted through the garden making Hermione’s stomach rumble. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Narcissa guided them along the path, her arm resting gently in the crook of Hermione’s elbow, until they reached a silver archway adorned with more roses and balls of light. A small sign at the top of the arch depicted a pair of wands, one black, one white, crossed over each other with sparks coming from the tips. The sparks glittered red and gold in the evening light as a smartly dressed wizard in all black approached them from the other side of the archway.

“Madam Black, a pleasure to see you once more.” He made a small bow to them both. “Please, follow me. I have your usual table ready.”

“Usual table?” Hermione mouthed at Narcissa in awe.

Narcissa smiled smoothly, one of her pureblood for show ones. “Naturally. It wouldn’t do to have to wait for a table now, would it?” A small laugh escaped her lips but again it wasn’t the one Hermione had heard previously but one Narcissa elected to put on for society’s sake.

They followed the maître d’ through the archway and the scenery changed at once. Where there had been rose bushes before there were now intimate tables set for couples or small groups of well-to-do witches and wizards. Some of them inclined their heads as Narcissa passed them, others averted their eyes or pretended she wasn’t there at all. The maître d’ led them right to the back of the small establishment to a small alcove away from private eyes, the table set for two. He pulled a seat out for each of them before two black menus appeared in front of them. 

“Would you care to see the wine list?” he addressed Narcissa but found he was waved off lightly. “The usual then? Marvellous. I’ll be back momentarily. Would you care for the curtain?” Hermione looked puzzled but Narcissa nodded and flashed him a charming smile that didn’t quite meet the eyes. Evidently he understood though as he pulled a discrete gold coloured cord to the side on his way out of the alcove and a silken red curtain fell into place.

Narcissa sighed and visibly relaxed into the seat. Noting Hermione’s still puzzled expression, Narcissa followed her eyes to the ruby curtain and explained “For privacy. If _The Crossed Wands_ does one thing properly it’s discretion. Each table has its own curtain which is imbued with secrecy charms. None but the occupants of the alcove can hear or see what is happening within.”

Hermione nodded slowly, still coming to comprehend that she was actually in the notoriously difficult to reserve restaurant. “I still can’t believe you have a _usual_ table. Is this why no one else can get a reservation? Do all purebloods just reserve half the restaurant every night?”

“Hmm.” Narcissa took a sip of the golden wine which had just appeared in two glasses on the table. “Not quite. But this table is frequently made available for my use given that the Black Family Vaults have a majority share in the business.”

Hermione’s jaw could have hit the floor. “You… You own _The Crossed Wands_?”

“Fifty-one percent of it.” Narcissa replied nonchalantly. “But that’s between you and me, Ms Granger. The Blacks like to control things but we do so behind the scenes. It doesn’t do to shout about your wealth and influence.”

“Everytime I think I’ve got the measure of you something always surprises me.” Hermione muttered, turning her attention to the menu in front of her. She was about to open the black leatherbound book when a slender hand reached across the table and stilled her hand. Her head shot up and she found herself trapped in the dazzling blue gaze of Narcissa.

“Oh I think you’ll find I’m full of surprises, Ms Granger.” she replied quietly, lips twitching at the blush that was rushing up Hermione’s neck.

_This woman is going to kill me_. Hermione thought, desperately willing the redness to fade as quickly as it had appeared. Her mind was starting to race and then, as if stroked by a cool hand, her thoughts calmed and she breathed deeply. She was sure to get emotional whiplash being in Narcissa’s presence, she mused.

“My apologies.” Narcissa said calmly, retrieving the menu from Hermione’s hand. “But I don’t think we’ll require the menus tonight. If you’ll allow me?”

Hermione thought she would grant Narcissa almost anything in that moment. Still lost in the icy blue gaze she nodded her assent.

The maître d’ appeared from behind the curtain once more, smoothly sliding into their alcove and allowing the curtain to fall into place behind him once more. A sleek notebook appeared with a small but elegant quill in front of him. “Madam Black?” he asked, pulling Narcissa’s gaze from Hermione.

“The Guinea Fowl, Turbot, and then…” she turned back to consider Hermione and Hermione could have sworn that cool feeling in her mind had returned for the briefest of moments before Narcissa finished with another one of her faint smiles. “The apple and vanilla.” 

The maître d’ nodded and disappeared again with his quill and notebook vanishing into thin air behind him. When the curtain fell back into place Hermione decided she had to ask. She needed to know.

“Narcissa Black, did you just use _legilimency_ to find out what I wanted for dessert?!” she hissed, forgetting for a moment about the secrecy charms in the curtain.

Narcissa sipped casually at her wine in response, a single eyebrow raised. 

“You did, didn’t you?” Hermione pressed.

“How else was I meant to know if you’d prefer the apple or the pear?” 

Hermione found herself laughing in shock. “Normal people just _ask_!”

Narcissa graced her with a sweet smile. “Ms Granger, I am a Black. Black’s don’t ask. And besides,” she carried on over Hermione’s indignant sputtering. “I asked you to dinner to show you my gratitude for your help these past months. You spend all your time thinking and plotting and planning. You have done for many years. Tonight is not for thinking. Tonight you are to relax, enjoy good food, and, if I can muster it, charming conversation.”

“I didn’t realise dinner came with conditions.” Hermione quipped back, marvelling at the woman before her. Only a couple of years ago she would have bundled Narcissa amongst her enemies but now, after only a few months spent talking with the woman they had what could be thought of as some kind of friendship. Narcissa merely waved her comment away with an elegant flick of her hand.

“You said in your letters we would have a great deal to discuss in matters relating to Arithmancy and Transfiguration. I must say, having seen your animagus form I am impressed and intrigued. What drew you to the fox?”

Hermione felt a glow of pride bubble up inside her hearing that Narcissa was impressed with her in any way. “Well, honestly, it came about because I wanted to walk the streets of London at night without having to worry about being followed because of who I am. After the war… I don’t know if you ever saw the Daily Prophet straight after?” 

Narcissa shook her head, she had avoided the foul paper like Dragon Pox. Hermione nodded in understanding, she wouldn’t have looked if the damn things hadn’t been everywhere she turned.

“Well, they were always wanting interviews. Wanting to know what we were doing with our lives now that Voldemort had fallen. That kind of thing.”

Narcissa did well not to shudder at the mention of the Dark Lord.

“I just wanted to go back to Hogwarts, finish my studies, and then once I knew it was safe, find my parents and restore their memories. Maybe after I could even travel a bit before finding a job. The boys… Well, they went straight into the Ministry as Aurors and everyone kept on asking me if I would do the same. But I chose to return to Hogwarts and finish up there. I got a bit of calm and quiet when I was in the castle but if I ever went to Hogsmeade I wouldn’t get a moment’s peace. So I decided to spend my Hogsmeade weekends in the Room of Requirement. I worked on all sorts of things but the one that took the most time was becoming an animagus. I thought it would help me when I went to find my parents. And it did. I was able to go to Australia undetected by the press and restore their memories without being hassled by the magical world.”

“I’m sorry.” Narcissa interrupted. “You had to restore your parents memories? In Australia of all places?”

Hermione was granted a moment's respite with the appearance of their starter before she launched into her explanation. She continued to explain between mouthfuls of delightful Guinea Fowl and fresh vegetables and berries.

“I modified their memories at the end of my sixth year at Hogwarts.” she said quietly, eyes firmly on the plate before her, memories drifting to the surface. “I didn’t know what that next year would entail but I knew they weren’t safe in Britain. So I made them forget me. Forget everything about our life as a family.”

Narcissa let out a small gasp and reached across the table to take Hermione’s hand in her own, only slightly shocked at her own actions.

“You made them forget you ever existed? Hermione…” she breathed, stroking a thumb across the back of her hand. She couldn’t imagine Draco ever having to do that, let alone having the willpower to successfully pull it off.

“I sent them off to Australia. Made them think that they were realising a lifelong dream. If they weren’t in the country, if they couldn’t be found, then they couldn’t be used against me. Worst case scenario was that I died in the war and they got to live out a happy life in Australia. I never wanted them to come to harm.” Hermione fell silent, the memories swimming to the surface and Narcissa couldn’t help but see them as they floated towards the front of her mind.

_A younger Hermione slowly walked down the stairs with her wand clenched tight in her fist as her parents sat in the living room watching tv. She made sure to avoid the third bottom step as it always creaked. She couldn’t let them know she was coming. If she saw their faces she knew she wouldn’t be able to do what she needed to do. A raised wand to the back of the woman’s head. The silent obliviate caused the woman’s eyes to roll back in her head as she slumped back on the couch. The man made to turn, to see what had happened but she was too quick for him. A quick tear choked cry of “Obliviate!” and he too was slumped on the couch. She watched on as the memories of their lives together drained from their eyes, the photos throughout the room fading to remove all trace of the girl they loved so much. Tears broke free from brown eyes and she levitated her trunk with all of her belongings out of the door._

Narcissa stared aghast at the woman in front of her. She stumbled to find her next words. Not sure that there really was anything she could say that would match the strength of emotion she was feeling right then. Eventually she settled on a whispered “I’m sorry you ever had to do that, Hermione.”

Hermione gave a quick sniff, pulling her hand from Narcissa’s to wipe at her eyes. “I… thank you. But you don’t have anything to be sorry for. They’re okay. They were safe and they know I exist again.”

“I was party to the reason you had to do that in the first place.” Narcissa murmured. 

It was Hermione’s turn to reach out across the table and rest her hand on Narcissa’s. “Hey” she said, waiting for Narcissa to look at her. “You came out on the right side in the end. That’s what matters.” she gave Narcissa’s hand a gentle squeeze before her hand retreated back to her side of the table. “But back to your question. I think I ended up as a fox because I always knew I would end up back in London. London has always been home for me and when I can’t sleep at night there’s no easier way to roam the streets than as a fox.”

Narcissa nodded, quietly amazed that Hermione could forgive her misdeeds so easily. 

“Do you have an animagus?” Hermione asked in an attempt to lighten the mood again. “Secret or otherwise.”

Narcissa smiled at the attempt. She really was quite sweet, Ms Granger. “I’m afraid not. It’s not something I’ve ever attempted. I focused instead on my Legilimency. I’m a natural Legillimens, but finesse takes time.”

“Oh god, the things you must have heard from me!” Hermione exclaimed in quiet panic. 

“You needn’t worry, Ms Granger. I make a conscious effort to block the thoughts of others out as a rule. Very rarely do I actually try to hear what others are thinking.”

Hermione let out a breath and relaxed. _Thank goodness. If she knew how often she comes into my thoughts…_

“Just when it comes to dessert options then?” she joked.

Narcissa’s blue eyes shimmered in amusement. “Dessert options are always an exception to that particular rule, Ms Granger.” She replied silkily.

Hermione felt another flush of red creeping up her neck at Narcissa’s sudden change in tone but was saved further embarrassment as their main course arrived. She took the opportunity and dived right into the fish, faintly moaning with delight as it melted in her mouth. Narcissa, became very interested in her own meal all of a sudden, focusing intently on the potatoes and fish so that Hermione didn’t detect the pink hue to Narcissa’s cheeks.

“You know,” Hermione said between mouthfuls, “I thought we’d agreed that you’d stop calling me ‘Ms Granger’.”

“My apologies, Ms Gr-” Narcissa paused with a smile and a roll of her eyes at her slip up. “My apologies, _Hermione_. It’s not something I’m used to. Conversing with someone from the Ministry without a layer of formality.”

Hermione settled her cutlery on her empty plate. “Don’t think of me as someone from the Ministry then.” She grinned. “I’m not here on Ministry business tonight after all, am I? Think of me as a… Would it be too soon for you to think of me as a friend, Ms Black?”

Narcissa followed suit and placed her own cutlery on her plate, pushing it a centimetre or so away from her. “Well.” she dabbed at the corners of her mouth with her napkin. “If we are to be friends, I suspect you ought to stop calling me Ms Black then, oughtn't you? If I am to call you by your name, you should do likewise. Call me Narcissa, please, Hermione.”

Hermione beamed at her and she couldn’t help but let her mask slip that bit further as she smiled back. There was something that was utterly infectious about the woman before her and she found herself thinking how long it had been since she had considered anyone who wasn’t family a friend, but perhaps with Hermione that would be different. 

The dishes disappeared before them and were replaced by a single chilled bowl. In the bowl there was a small, perfect apple draped in toffee sauce with a sphere of vanilla ice cream nestled next to it. Hermione immediately made to push the bowl towards Narcissa, insisting she take it seeing as she had suggested they come here after all.

“Don’t be silly, Hermione.” Narcissa replied, sliding the bowl back to the centre of the table. She laid her hand, which was cold from the side of the bowl, on top of Hermione’s and felt the girl shiver slightly. “I ordered this for you, after all. Don’t make my legilimency go to waste.” she winked playfully and took a small amount of pleasure from the almost immediate pink flush that came across Hermione’s face.

_This woman is going to kill me, looking at me like that!_

“No!” Hermione persisted, flustered. “I absolutely insist.”

For a moment Hermione thought she had won the argument as Narcissa picked up her spoon and gathered up a sliver of apple, sauce and the ice cream. 

“Ha!” she began but was silenced as Narcissa reached across the table and slid the spoon into her open mouth.

“I don’t lose at anything, Hermione. You’d do well to remember that.” Narcissa said with a smirk, blue eyes sparkling with amusement. “Now,” she said, sliding the spoon from Hermione’s mouth delicately. “Will you eat the rest yourself or do I have to keep doing this?” she spun the spoon round in her hand to offer the handle to Hermione.

Shakily, unsure of what had just happened as she swallowed the silky blend of toffee sauce, ice cream and melt-in-the-mouth apple, Hermione took the proffered spoon. 

_Merlin’s pants that was smooth._ She thought. _How am I meant to say no to that?!_

Narcissa resisted the urge to smirk again, but the edges of her lips still twitched. 

“You don’t play very fair, Narcissa Black.” Hermione said begrudgingly, taking a scoop of the ice cream from the bowl and popping it into her mouth to give her shaking hands something to do.

Narcissa sat back in her seat with a satisfied glint in her eye and took a sip of her wine. “We Blacks never do.”

* * *

Narcissa’s statement proved to be true when Hermione attempted to pay for the meal at the end of the evening. She tried, when she nipped out from behind the curtain under the pretense of going to the toilet, to catch the maître d’s attention but the man seemed oblivious to her. When she returned from the loo she tried to seek him out again but he was nowhere to be found. So she made her way back to their alcove in a confused huff to be greeted by Narcissa back in what she was beginning to think of as her ‘pureblood mode’. The blonde witch was giving the maître d’ her false smile and slipping something into a small black wallet on a silver tray between the pair of them. 

“And remember, Tiberius, the tips for yourself and the chefs are to be taken from my personal vault, not the company vault.” 

The maître d’ smiled in thanks and gave them both a quick bow before departing again.

“Narcissa!” Hermione scolded as she sat down again. “I was going to cover that!”

“Don’t be silly dear. I asked you to accompany me this evening. Why on earth would I let you pay?” She said, lifting her napkin from her lap and folding it neatly on the table beside her empty wine glass.

“Well, I could have at least paid my share!” Hermione blustered. “I can afford it, you know. If that’s what you’re thinking!”

Narcissa stood and offered her hand to Hermione who stared at it, waiting for an answer. She sighed and instead used her hand to gently tuck a stray curl behind Hermione’s ear.

“It’s not a question of money, Hermione.”

Hermione was momentarily distracted by the hand with the delicate fingers still hovering by her ear as she looked up at Narcissa. “Then what?”

“It’s because I want to. Consider it a gift, Hermione. For all you’ve done for me thus far. A small effort to repay you for yours.” She let her hand fall from Hermione’s hair, fingers slipping away from the curl they had been teasing, and turned to hold the curtain aside.

“Shall we return to the Manor?”

Hermione nodded, feeling a bit befuddled by the close contact, and stood to follow Narcissa out into the rose garden once more. She offered her arm to Narcissa once outside and was glad when Narcissa opted to loop their arms again. She felt like the mood of the evening had slipped away so Narcissa still opting to be close to her was a reassurance and she disapperated them into the night.

Like before, she made sure to aim for the bottom of the gravel path so that they could spend a few moments longer together. It was silly really, this wanting to draw out their time together but with everything that was going on at work right now spending time with Narcissa was a welcome respite for her that she didn’t want to give up if she didn’t have to.

She felt a rush of relief when Narcissa didn’t let go of her arm when they began their walk up the gravel path. The silence weighed on her terribly with every step though and she found herself panicking in her thoughts.

_Merlin, Hermione, say something! Don’t let her think you’re an ungrateful shit. Tell her thank you! Tell her how lovely an evening it was. You should do it again. She looks incredible in those robes. Agh, no, don’t tell her. She knows she looks incredible. You’ll look like an idiot. Do you want to look like an idiot?! You probably already look like an idiot. It’s a wonder she even wants to see you anyway._

She felt Narcissa’s arm slip from hers, then cool palms cupped her face and Narcissa pulled them to a stop, resting her forehead against Hermione’s.

“You’re thinking _very_ loudly and _incorrectly_.” She said quietly, her words a near physical sensation on Hermione’s lips. “Just stop for a moment.”

_Stop what?_ Hermione thought, gazing into Narcissa’s cool blue eyes in wonder.

_Thinking_. A voice that wasn’t hers replied in her head. It was accompanied by that soothing sensation that she’d felt before in Narcissa’s presence.

_You’re welcome for dinner, it was a delight to dine with you tonight, Hermione. We will absolutely do it again if you like. You are not an idiot in any way shape or form. Please never think that I would think such a thing of you._ The voice paused and retreated from Hermione’s mind gently, feeling like a faint caress as it left.

Hermione let her eyes flutter closed for a moment as Narcissa pulled away physically too. She missed her hands the second they left the side of her face, her magic tingling under her skin as though to pull the woman back to her. She took a shuddering breath and opened her eyes to see Narcissa leaning against the door frame of the Manor, looking the most casual she had ever seen her.

Narcissa smiled slowly, her eyes glinting in the moonlight, still fixed firmly on Hermione’s.

“You look wonderful too, Ms Granger. Goodnight.”

“G-Goodnight.” Hermione managed to stammer back as Narcissa disappeared into the Manor. She took a moment to breathe, staring at the mammoth door as if she could will it open, before turning round and transforming into her fox form and slinking off down the gravel path.


	10. The Crossed Wands - Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again folks! Here's the second part of what was originally chapter 9 in my plans. I hope you all enjoyed the small bit of fluff in the last chapter, I certainly *loved* writing it. 
> 
> Also, can you believe I've written 40k of this fic? This is insane! This is officially the longest thing I've ever written, fanfic or otherwise. If only this was a Nanowrimo project, I'd be acing it!

Later that night Hermione lay awake, half-mindedly stroking Treacle as the dog snoozed next to her. She’d not been able to sleep since she got home, replaying the memories of her dinner with Narcissa over and over again in her head. She kept thinking over their departure in particular. Focusing on Narcissa’s calming words in her head, the feel of her cool hands on the side of her face. She had always suspected Narcissa was a Legilimens, especially after their first few meetings where she had thought she’d almost felt something. But it had taken having Narcissa actually _in_ her head for her to confirm it. 

The way Harry had always described his lessons with Snape had made Legilimency sound like a painful and intrusive process. With Narcissa though it had been as gentle as a caress. Maybe there was a difference between born Legilimens and those who had to learn it? Or maybe it was just that Narcissa didn’t hate her the way Snape had loathed Harry. Whatever it was, Hermione couldn’t help but think it was one of the most unobtrusive and relaxing things she had felt. It was almost like it was right to have her in her head, which didn’t really make sense given their history and yet…

Her reverie was interrupted by the appearance of Harry’s silver stag bounding into the room through the window. “Hermione!” Harry’s panicked voice echoed round the room. “You need to get to Black Manor now. There are at least fifty Dementors making their way up to the house. We need you!”

She didn’t even think, she just leaped out of bed, summoned her tactical robes from the wardrobe and spun on the spot. With a loud _CRACK_ she reappeared at the gates of Black Manor and stumbled right into Harry. The air was freezing and their breaths fogged in front of their faces. Harry grabbed her arm and pulled her upright as she shrugged her arms into the robes. He wasn’t the only Auror on the scene, it looked like the whole department had been summoned to deal with the situation. That, unfortunately for Hermione, included Ron, who marched up to the pair of them. 

“I’ve put magic dampeners in place and strengthened the wards. Nothing is gonna get out until we’re ready for them.”

“What do you mean magic dampeners, Ron?” Hermione said, spinning round to face him.

“‘Mione! Hi.” He grinned like an idiot schoolboy before explaining. “Well we’ve got a dangerous criminal in there, we don’t want her kicking off when we’re trying to deal with the Dementors, do we?”

“Are you insane?!” Hermione yelled but didn’t wait for an answer. “Narcissa is in there! How is she meant to defend herself if you’ve put a magic dampener up? She’s surrounded by Dementors, you idiot!”

“Hey!” Ron snapped back. “We don’t know how those Dementors got here. For all we know _she_ summoned _them_! We shouldn’t go in until we know what we’re up against. It’s better for everyone if Malfoy is neutralised.”

Hermione couldn’t deal with him a second longer. She turned to Harry, gripping his arm and pulling him away from Ron and hissing “Harry, give me access. Let me get in there and protect her. If need be I’ll put up emergency wards inside the Manor to secure her if you think she’s that big a threat. But you can’t possibly leave her in there defenceless.”

Harry nodded grimly and walked her to the gates. “Kingsley is on his way. So once I let you in I won’t be able to let you out again until he gives the go ahead.” He hesitated for a moment and then pulled her in for a quick tight hug. “Be safe, ‘Mione.”

He turned his attention to the sealed gates, raising his hand to it and muttering under his breath. Slowly, two of the wrought iron bars began pulling apart until there was a hole large enough for Hermione to slip through. She did so and the bars returned to their previous positions and sealed her into the Manor grounds. She lit her wand and raced up the drive, ignoring the deepening chill that was sinking into her very bones.

When she reached the Manor door she found it open and the handle coated in an eerie blue ice. The flames were all out in the hallway, leaving the Manor in almost complete darkness save for Hermione’s wand light. A quick inspection made it clear that the Dementors were not on the ground floor. Instead, there was a trail of ice running up the bannister of the grand staircase to the upper floors of the Manor. She knew from her past visits that the first floor was predominantly unused so she sprinted up to the second floor where the bedrooms were located. When she reached the main corridor she saw that Dementors were starting to emerge from the opposite staircase at the end of the hall and were making their way eerily along the corridor, turning all the door handles and hinges to ice as they passed. Hermione shuddered and ran along the corridor towards the floating monstrosities, turning sharply when she got to the third door on the right. She chose not to knock this time and barged into the room with a cry of “Narcissa!”

Inside she saw the bedsheets were rumpled and cast aside on the floor, evidently discarded in a hurry. A trail of abandoned items lay strewn across the floor as though someone had been frantically searching for something. Hermione followed the trail across the room towards a door that stood ever so slightly ajar, horribly aware of just how cold it was becoming in the room. The Dementors were closing in and fast. As she approached the door she heard a panic-stricken muttering and what sounded like sticks clattering to the floor. Slowly, she pushed the door open to find Narcissa curled up on the floor of a large en-suite, as far away from the door as she could manage without wedging herself under the sink. At her feet lay a pile of twenty or thirty different wands of varying woods and length. She was rifling through them at speed, picking each one up in turn and hurriedly muttering " _Ex- Expecto P-p-p-patronum!_ " When nothing happened she would screw up her eyes and reach for the next one and begin her stuttering process all over again.

Hermione rushed forward and slid down on to the floor beside Narcissa, taking her shaking hands in her right and tilting her head up with her left. "Narcissa! Narcissa you need to stop. It won't work. The Ministry have sealed off the Manor and placed a dampener on us. You won't be able to cast."

Narcissa's eyes were filled with panic and she clutched at Hermione desperately.

"We're going to die…" she whispered shakily. 

"No!" Hermione said firmly, hoping against hope that wasn't a rasping breath she could hear in the background. "We are not going to die, Narcissa. I won't let that happen. You hear me?"

Narcissa nodded, her grip on Hermione tightening as she too heard the rattling breath of a Dementor entering the bedroom.

"Right, good. Now you can't cast, but I can. My robes are dampener resistant so I'll be able to keep the Dementors at bay long enough for the Ministry to get their act together. But I need you to help me, Narcissa, can you do that? Can you help me?"

The rattling breath was louder now and a grim, grey scabbed hand was reaching through the doorway to push the door open further. Narcissa nodded frantically at the sight and whimpered before whispering "Whatever you need."

"Great." Hermione shuffled to a crouched position in front of Narcissa and lifted up the back of her tactical robes to reveal a pale, scarred stretch of skin on her back. "I need you to put your hands on my back and help me power my casting okay? Being under the robes will give you a little more of your magic."

She felt Narcissa’s hands obey and a mixture of cold skin and warm magic trembled against her spine. The Dementor was fully in the room now and making its slow advance as others made to join it through the door. Hermione clenched her wand tightly in her left hand and steadied herself with her right on the ice cold floor of the bathroom. She summoned the happiest memory she could think of, her go to one of finding her parents in Australia and restoring their memories. " _Expecto Patronum!_ " 

The silver fox bounded out and charged down one, two, three Dementors before it faded and fizzled out of existence. She tried again, summoning everything she could think of to accompany that memory. _Finding out she was a witch. The smell of fresh books. Harry and Ginny's grinning faces when they'd asked her to be godmother to James._ She threw it all together and tried again. " _EXPECTO PATRONUM!_ "

Again the fox bounded fourth, hackles raised and tearing at the Dementor's cloaks, sending them hurtling off into the darkness once more. It lasted slightly longer this time, fending off seven Dementors before disappearing. She needed something else, something more, but what else was there?

Behind her Narcissa was shaking, weeping into Hermione’s scrunched up robes at the shoulder, trying desperately to keep the memories at bay long enough to boost Hermione’s magic with her own. The scars on the pile flesh below her hands weren't helping her keep the memories away though and she found herself stammering "N-n-no. Please no… Not again. I'm s-s-sorry!"

Then, as the room filled with Dementors and the one closest to them began to reach for it's hood, a thought flooded Hermione’s mind. Her right hand, which was still on the floor, spasmed and one of the discarded wands slipped into her fingers. Power raced through her as the familiar wand wood hummed with magic. In her mind she had only one thought as the Dementors closed in around them, all of them reaching for their hoods now. 

_Narcissa._

" ** _EXPECTO PATRONUM!_** " Hermione roared, wielding both wands at once. From her own wand the fox sprinted forth, from the other a bounding dog of some sort. They moved in sync, one taking the right flank, one on the left, moving in like a pincer. Each Dementor they encountered rushed off into the night as though burned by the blindingly white animals. The remaining Dementors who hadn't yet edged closer shrank away as the fox and the dog worked their way across the room. The fox and the dog ran towards each other suddenly and collided in a flash of white light and a deafening _BOOM_ that shook the entire Manor.

The last of the Dementors simply disappeared all together, as if they had never existed in the first place, and the warmth of a summer's evening flooded the room once more. Hermione slumped forward on the floor and would have smacked her head off the tiles if Narcissa had not wrapped her arms around the witch and pulled her back so that the younger witch rested with her back against Narcissa’s front.

Narcissa held her tight, whispering through tears. "You did it, Hermione. You did it!"

After a moment or so Hermione seemed to come back to herself and replied " _We_ did it. I couldn't have done that without your magic behind me." She looked down at her hands and saw that she still clasped a wand in each. In her right hand lay a vine wood wand. A very familiar vine wood wand.

"Is… is this my wand?" She asked in confusion.

Narcissa released her hold on Hermione and stood, helping Hermione to her feet also. She looked at the second wand in Hermione's hand and then to the witch.

"Yes." She breathed. "I… I kept it with the others. After you were brought to Malfoy Manor… Your wand joined the armoury but was never used. When I left…" she swallowed thickly. "When I left for Hogwarts the night it ended. I gave Draco my wand and took yours with me. I didn't use it at all that night, other than to aid in our apparition out of the fight at the end. I don't know why I took it really. Other than when I went to get myself a replacement... it called to me."

"My wand called to you…" Hermione replied in confusion. "How could that be? Why woul-"

"GRANGER!" Kingsley's deep voice boomed from the doorway. "Is Malfoy secured?"

Hermione turned to see Kingsley standing in the doorway in full battle robes, a step up from her own tactical robes. He had his wand pointing out, aimed over her shoulder at Narcissa. She shifted slightly to stand in front of her, blocking Kingsley's view of her.

"Narcissa is safe." She stated, feeling both her wands vibrate in her hands as her temper rose.

"That's not what I asked, Granger." Kingsley growled back, moving into the room in an attempt to get a better view of Narcissa.

Hermione moved with Kingsley, ensuring that her body stood between him and Narcissa at all times. "It's the only answer you're getting, Kingsley. Lower your wand. This isn't the war anymore!"

"She's a dark witch and you know it, Granger. Why else would those Dementors be here?"

Hermione laughed bitterly. She had to laugh, this whole situation reminded her painfully of Harry the summer before their fifth year. "I expect that's something the Ministry will want to look into. Because I can assure you that, powerful as she may be, Narcissa Black doesn't have the ability nor the desire to summon a hoard of Dementors to her door in the dead of night. This was a sanctioned attack. You have a rogue entity in the Ministry, _Minister_."

“You’re deluded. She’s imperio’d you or confunded you. You can’t see what’s standing right in front of you!”

Hermione shook her head, shocked that she was hearing the once sensible Kingsley Shacklebolt spout Fudge-era rhetoric. Her wands twitched, itching to get into action. “Kingsley, you and I both know that’s not possible. The wards won’t permit that, nothing I’ve done has changed that. Check if you want!” She pulled the wards up with a flick of her ebony wand, filling the room with golden light.

Kingsley’s eyes roved around the wards and, after a minute or so, begrudgingly lowered his wand. “Alright. I’ll believe you. But,” he flicked his wand and the runes shuffled until a wavering gold rune with a cold blue crack down the middle of it floated between him and Hermione. “The security wards have been damaged by the Dementors. These wards were never designed to stand up against that number. Madam Malfoy will need to move to Azkaban whilst we repair this.”

Hermione felt Narcissa clutch at the back of her robes and felt her resolve harden. “ _Narcissa_ , won’t be going to Azkaban, Kingsley. If the wards need repairing they can be repaired. In the meantime she can be moved to another secure location. Azkaban is out of the question.”

Kingsley shook his head. “There’s nowhere else, Hermione. We don’t have anywhere sufficiently warded she could go. It won’t be an indefinite stay, just long enough to fix the wards here and then she can return.”

“No Kingsley, you know as well as I do that the words will take weeks, maybe even months to fix. That” she pointed to the cracked rune, “is the work of the Dementor’s dark magic. You need a whole team of Unspeakables to undo that. And you know how hard that is to get, even for the Minister for Magic.”

Kingsley sighed in frustration, running a hand over his clean shaven head. “Well what exactly do you propose then? Either she goes to Azkaban or what? What’s the alternative? Do we just unleash her on the Wizarding World? Do you have any idea what kind of panic that would cause? It’s not happening. Azkaban is the only option.” He stepped to the side to get a better view of Narcissa and directed his next words calmly at her. “Madam Malfoy, will you come with us willingly or do I have to ask my Aurors to take you in?”

Narcissa was shaking as if the Dementors were back in the room. “No… No, I can’t go there. I can’t be around them.” she looked to Hermione. “Please, Hermione. Please don’t let them take me there.”

Hermione made to calm Narcissa, planned to pull her into a hug and promise her nothing would happen, when Kingsley’s voice rang out again. “You give me no choice then, _Incarcerous_!” 

Thick ropes shot past Hermione and began wrapping round Narcissa so tightly it looked like they might choke the very life from her. Without a thought or a plan Hermione spun on the spot, her vine wood wand whipping into action, firing a jet of red light at Kingsley as her ebony wand threw up a shield around her and Narcissa. Kingsley only just managed to divert the spell, sending it off to shatter a porcelain tile instead.

“Kingsley. She’s not going there.” Hermione warned, wand still directed at him. “I’m not letting you.”

“Where then? Where will she go, Granger?” Kingsley levelled, eyeing her duel wielding wands warily.

“My place.” Hermione replied without thought. “It has all the protection the Ministry could possibly provide plus some wards of my own making. She’ll be safe there.”

“It’s not her safety I’m worried about.” Kingsley said slowly, not keen to admit that Hermione’s solution was actually a good one. “What about those who live around you? What if she leaves?”

“Do you really think I’m incapable of replicating a boundary ward, Kingsley, really?” Hermione replied with more of a bite than she might have intended.

Kingsley begrudgingly stood down, wand arm dropping to his side. He looked deflated and tired. Endlessly tired. Of course Hermione was capable. She was one of the most capable people he had in the Ministry. He gave her a curt nod. “Do what you need to do then Ms Granger. But I want regular reports.” He flicked his wand and the ropes that bound Narcissa disappeared. She gasped and clutched at her throat, sending the most piercing glare she could muster at the Minister.

Hermione helped Narcissa to her feet and kept a hold on her arm as she replied to Kingsley. “I’ll want to inspect the wards myself this time Kingsley. No more surprises, okay?”

Kingsley didn’t respond, instead he turned on the spot and marched out of the bathroom and went to go find the rest of his Aurors. As soon as she was sure he wouldn’t be making a return she pulled Narcissa into a hug and held her close.

“Are you okay?” she whispered into Narcissa’s shoulder

Narcissa took a deep, shuddering breath and returned the hug slowly, almost uncertainly, and replied shakily “Yes. Are you? His spells didn’t hit you?”

“No.” Hermione pulled back and took Narcissa’s appearance in. The blonde witch was in a state of disarray, her silk dressing gown only tied loosely at her waist revealing a green and silver baggy t-shirt with an embroidered S on the front. She was barefoot and shivering still on the cold tile floor. Hermione summoned one of the blankets from the next room and wrapped it round Narcissa’s shoulders. Narcissa smiled gratefully.

“Is it alright? My place I mean.” Hermione added, nerves creeping into her voice. “I know it’s not ideal but it won’t be for long, just until they can re-secure the Manor. And you’ll have the place to yourself during the day when I’m at work. So it’s not like I’ll be in your way. I don’t have a second bedroom, it’s London so things are a bit pricey, but you can have my room! I’ll sleep on the sofa. It’s actually kind of comf-”

Narcissa placed her finger on Hermione’s lips, cutting her off mid-sentence. “You’re rambling again. Only this time you’re doing it out loud.” They stood like that for a moment or so until Narcissa was sure that Hermione wasn’t going to continue in her panicked thought process. Then she shed the blanket from her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor in a heap, and walked through to the bedroom.

“Where are you going?” Hermione asked when she finally managed to get her thoughts back in order.

“If I’m to spend weeks away from the Manor then I should pack, don’t you think?” Narcissa called from the bedroom.

_Good god, Granger. You’re an idiot. Where did you think she was going?_ Hermione chastised herself.

“Stop that.” 

“Stop what?” Hermione asked, baffled.

“The thing you’re doing. Calling yourself an idiot. I don’t like it.”

_Legilimens! Duh!_ Hermione’s face flushed red and she was glad now that Narcissa was in the other room. She was really going to have to work on keeping her thoughts to herself these next few weeks.

  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After helping Narcissa to pack up her essentials (three whole trunks worth!) Hermione apparated them back to her flat in London. Or rather she apparated them to the alley outside her flat. She’d once made the mistake of apparating right onto her doorstep and Mr Wiggens from number 149 had dropped his keys, shopping, and a very startled cat which had immediately shot off into the stairwell. It had taken him a week to find Sir Tibbleswith again, which he reminded her of on an almost weekly basis. He, thankfully, had made the assumption that she’d snuck along the corridor when he was fiddling with his keys and hadn’t just appeared out of thin air.

Narcissa looked around the dingy alley with overflowing bins and wrinkled her nose at the smell but then quickly tried to cover up her disgust. She didn’t want Hermione thinking she thought less of her for her less-than-ideal living situation. Instead she asked “This is a very elaborate distraction ward, Ms Granger.”

Hermione looked around in confusion and then, when she’d cottoned on to what Narcissa was saying, tried desperately not to laugh. But, given all that they had recently been through and narrowly escaped, found herself doubled over and wheezing with laughter. “Oh god, Narcissa. Narcissa that’s hilarious!” She straightened up and wiped tears from her face. “No, this is just the alley. I’m sorry, I had to bring you here first. My flat is under a Fidelius Charm so I’ll need to tell you before you can come in.”

Narcissa felt relief flood her. She would not have to sleep in a skip tonight. But she was still curious about the kind of life Hermione led that she was in need of such security. “A Fidelius Charm? Are you in need of additional protection? Surely the Ministry could provide you with something, you’re a war hero for Merlin’s sake!”

Her indignant outrage on Hermione’s behalf was met with a gentle chuckle. “Oh they’d love to know where I am, trust me. But I did this for me. For my privacy. After the war I needed somewhere I could call home and know that I wouldn’t be bothered by people I didn’t want to see. Not many people know about it. My parents, of course, Ginny Potter, and Luna Lovegood. And now,” she conjured a piece of parchment and a quill and quickly wrote something before passing to Narcissa, “you.”

Narcissa took the parchment but didn’t look. “Are you sure? I feel like I’m invading your privacy. I… I don’t want to go to Azkaban but if it means you keep your sanctuary I would bear it, I would find a way. I wouldn’t want to take that away from you. Everyone deserves a place to call solely their own. I couldn’t… really.” She tried to hand the parchment back to Hermione but Hermione refused. 

Instead, Hermione took Narcissa’s face in her hands and rested her forehead against Narcissa, gazing deep into the blue depths.

_You’re rambling, Narcissa._ She thought loudly, hoping that Narcissa would hear it as she had heard her earlier that night. _I want you here. Trust me. Nothing on this earth could compel me to give you this information unless I wanted to._

The cool presence that she was coming to associate with Narcissa replied with a feeling of affirmation rather than words and Hermione smiled as she pulled back. “Now, will you please read the address so we can go inside? I know it’s summer but 3am is 3am and I think we could both do with some sleep.”

Narcissa looked down at the parchment at last and saw a hastily scrawled

_The home of Hermione Jean Granger can be found at 160 Templeton Road, London._

Once she had finished reading the parchment burst into flames and she had to drop it to avoid the flames reaching her fingers. She didn’t linger on it long though as Hermione took hold of her hand and hauled her round the corner and into a dingy but clean building. They took the stairs, ascending a total of six flights before Hermione drew them to a stop. Hermione was clearly used to the climb but Narcissa was not and she needed a moment to regain her breath before she could continue. When she had recovered, Hermione led them along a thin corridor with slightly sticky linoleum floors until they reached the very end. They had just passed number 159 but there was no door to signify that there might be another dwelling. In fact, it didn’t look like the building could even accommodate another flat. Yet, when Hermione instructed her to think of what she had just read, a plain blue door with 160 in bronze numbers appeared where there had been a blank wall previously, a welcome mat springing into existence along with it. 

“Ravenclaw colours? Really? I had expected something a little bit more… Gryffindor-ish.” Narcissa commented with an easy smirk.

“Just for that, Narcissa Black, I’m not going to warn you about what’s behind this door.” Hermione replied with a wicked glint in her eye as she opened the door and stepped back.

“Warn me about wh-ooof!” Narcissa’s question was knocked out of her along with all the air in her lungs as Treacle the beagle launched himself at their new house guest.

“Narcissa Black, meet Treacle. He’s my very own bloodhound, guard dog, and personal face washer.” she said as Narcissa was receiving said face washing. “Treacle, leave Narcissa be, she’s coming to live with us for a while so you’ll have all the time you need to familiarise yourself with her.” She lifted Treacle off of Narcissa and then offered her hand to the befuddled witch and helped her up.

“Treacle? That hardly sounds the name for a hound. Why would you call him that?”

“Oh, it’s because he’s always sticky like treacle syrup and I never quite know why. You’ll see what I mean soon enough…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we're now in the worrying part of the fic in that I don't actually have anymore chapters drafted... Due to an early morning realisation I'm launching myself back into the planning section to write up new chapter synopses for me to work from. So, just an early warning to you all that there might not be a new chapter next week unless chapter 11 somehow magically drafts itself. But I will get you new chapters! I refuse to abandon this fic!
> 
> As always, thank you for being lovely people. I appreciate each and every one of you.
> 
> Bet_on_black


	11. The Glowing Fireplace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well hello there folks! Guess who has *literally* just finished writing this chapter? ME!
> 
> And I'm just too excited to let it sit for a while like I normally do before posting. So please forgive me if there's typos or inconsistencies - I'll go back and check through it later and update if need be.
> 
> This is a significantly different chapter to what I had planned so... do with that information what you may. I hope you all enjoy.
> 
> Bet_on_Black

When Narcissa woke the next morning it was to the sticky tongue of Treacle lathering her face. She groaned and rolled over in an attempt to bury her face in the pillow. Instead of a soft pillow though she was met with crisp parchment wrapped around something solid. Her hand fumbled around the parchment as she sat up. Treacle took the opportunity to bound up on the bed and nestle into Narcissa’s lap. She scratched between his ears absentmindedly and wiped the sleep from her eyes. A small chink of light made its way through the gap in the curtains providing her with enough light to see the parchment before her.

She flipped it over and broke the wax seal on the back allowing a single golden galleon to tumble out of the parchment. Treacle gave it a suspicious sniff as it landed next to him but, after a moment, decided it wasn’t a threat and lay his head back down. Narcissa unfolded the parchment and read:

_ Narcissa, _

_ I’m so sorry to have to leave you so soon after last night but I needed to go to the Ministry first thing.  _

_ I’ll be back as soon as I can but if you need me use the enclosed Galleon. It has a Protean Charm on it and I hold the other copy, if you need me at all just place your message on the coin and I’ll be back at once. I’ve sealed off the fireplace in the living room from the network (it was only ever connected to the Ministry and my own office but one can never be too cautious). Thank you for your help with the wards last night. We can put up some more when I return but the ones we have in place should protect against most evils. _

_ If something should happen and I can’t make it back for whatever reason go to the desk in the corner of the living room. In the top right hand drawer there is a copy of  _ Twelfth Night _ which I have as an emergency portkey. Tap three times and it will take you to a safe house.  _

_ Please help yourself to any food and drink in the kitchen. My home is your home for as long as Black Manor is out of action. _

_ Yours, _

_ Hermione _

_ P.s. Do  _ NOT _ believe Treacle’s lies. He has been fed. He’s just trying to be a greedy guts. _

Narcissa lowered the parchment and took up the Galleon to examine it. It looked exactly like a normal Galleon, she’d seen and handled plenty of them to know that. But around the edge, instead of the numeral serial number there were letters, words, engraved in what was clearly Hermione’s handwriting.

_ There’s coffee in the kitchen if you want it. H. _

She felt herself smile. Of course Ms Granger would think to make sure there was coffee. The woman had seen her upon waking just once previously and had correctly assumed that coffee was a necessity. She summoned a set of robes from her trunk and placed the Galleon in the inside pocket before standing to get dressed and find the promised coffee

* * *

The Ministry was chaotic when Hermione arrived that morning. News of the attack had spread and it seemed like every witch and wizard in Britain had descended upon the foyer. A camera flash went off across from her and the tightly spun blonde curls of Rita Skeeter came into view.

“Ms Granger!” she called across the busy hall, pushing her way through the gathered witches and wizards to get closer. “Ms Granger! You were at Black Manor last night, do you have any comment for the prophet? Is the Ministry in control of the Dementors? Who sanctioned the attack? Is this revenge for the events of the war and the acts of her sister?”

Hermione had immediately turned to walk in the opposite direction when she had seen Rita weaving through the crowd but at mention of Narcissa she spun on the spot and allowed her wand to slip from its sheath into her hand, pointing it straight at the woman. Rita stopped in her tracks, eyeing the wand warily.

“Don’t you dare, Rita. This isn’t a story for you.” She said through gritted teeth.

“Oh but I think it is!” Rita said snidely, sidestepping Hermione’s wand to stand next to her. She leant in and whispered into Hermione’s ear. “It’s a story for you which means it’s a story for  _ me _ . You owe me, Granger.”

Hermione lowered her wand, slipping it back into the sheath at her wrist, and gripped Rita firmly by the arm. “My office, now.” Together they marched through the crowds, Rita’s poor photographer getting lost amongst the throng as they fought their way into a lift. They rode in silence, Hermione’s hand still clenched painfully around Rita’s bicep. Rita knew better than to complain though and allowed it to happen until the door to Hermione’s office was firmly shut behind them. She wrenched her arm free and glared at the younger witch. 

“Well, what is it then? Tell me the scoop Granger.” Her slender Quick-Quotes Quill was out and hovering over a piece of parchment expectantly. “We wouldn’t want the Minister finding out where your information came from now, would we?” She settled herself down in the chair opposite Hermione’s own and propped her feet up on the desk.

Hermione flumped down into her seat and flicked her wand, simultaneously locking the door to her office and sweeping Rita’s feet off the desk with a thud. “And that” she directed her wand at the acid green quill “can go back where it came from.” The quill flipped over and shot back into Rita’s purse with such force that her chair rocked underneath her.

“Really, Grange-”

“Nope” Hermione cut her off. “You’re in my office which means you play by my rules, Skeeter. What happened last night is none of your business, nor is it  _ The Prophet _ ’s business. If I see even a hint of this in the press you’ll be eating flies for weeks.”

Rita crossed her arms and observed Hermione over her glasses. “The press already knows, little miss know-it-all. And that’s before I came here for my scoop. What do you think that lot were doing milling about in the foyer?” she jabbed a thumb behind her. “You can’t hide a swarm of Dementors descending on one of the oldest wizarding homes in Britain. So give me something. Like I said, you owe me for the dirt on Kingsley.”

Hermione sighed and ran a hand through her hair, fingers catching on the frizzled remnants of last night’s elegant curls. “I don’t know what I can give you, Rita. There must have been fourty, maybe fifty Dementors there? The Aurors closed down the area long enough to disperse them. Other than that I don’t know much more than you.”

The blonde witch considered her with beady eyes. “You’re not telling me something. Why were you on the scene if the Aurors had it handled?”

“Who’s to say I was?” Hermione retorted.

Rita snorted. “Please. You know fine well I live just a stone's throw away from Black Manor. I felt a chill in the wind and went to investigate, can you blame me?”

She couldn’t. Not really. But it was a real bugger that she did live so close. Had she not then there might have been a chance that Hermione could have kept it out of the press for longer. 

“I was on hand as a member of the Department for Magical Law Enforcement.” she replied stiffly, knowing full well that Rita wasn’t going to leave it there.

“A member of the DMLE  _ but _ more importantly a member of Magical Restitution. What business does your lot have with Narcissa Malfoy? Don’t think I don’t know that you were on hand for her divorce as well. Only someone from DMLE could have wrangled that but why you, hmm?” Rita had her quill out again, resting the feather against her lips as though in thought. “Could it be, Ms Granger, that you’re trying to reform a former Death Eater?”

“Narcissa  _ Black _ was never a Death Eater and you know it Rita.” Hermione snarked back. “What will it take for you to drop this story?”

Rita gave a wide, toothy smile and leaned closer. “Now you’re talking. I’ll drop this story if you give me something truly juicy. My sources tell me Bodgwell was hauled in by the Aurors the other day. What was going on there, hmm?”

Hermione groaned. This wouldn’t go down well with Scrivens but if it kept her involvement at Black Manor out of the papers a while longer…

* * *

Rita left Hermione’s office fifthteen minutes later with a massive grin and a promise that “Whatever Miss-Goody-Two-Shoes has been up to” would stay out of the paper “for now.” It wasn’t a great compromise but it would have to do for now. 

Hermione flumped back in her chair and closed her eyes for a moment. She was exhausted. As soon as they’d gotten into the flat she had set about ensuring the wards on the flat were holding strong and adding new wards for Narcissa’s protection. It had been draining but Narcissa had lent her magic to her once more. There was something both terrifying and oddly reassuring about Narcissa’s cool palms resting on the small of her back, her magic thrumming with warmth into her and mixing merrily with Hermione’s own. Just a few months ago she would never have imagined Narcissa Black standing in her living room, skin to skin with Hermione and actually  _ helping _ her. 

Their top priority had been to erect a ward against Dementors which had been challenging for them both given their very recent incident with them. She’d had to duel wield her wands once more, Narcissa’s arms snaking round her waist for maximum skin coverage, to produce her fox and the blurry dog shape that neither of them could quite discern in their tired state. The Patronuses were imbued into the walls of the flat, their light forms intertwining with each other as they formed the protective ward.They had stepped apart as soon as the warding was done, Narcissa’s hand trailing lightly over the thin scars on the small of Hermione’s back as though reluctant to part from her. She shivered at the memory of it, her scars tentatively tingling.

The door to the office burst open and Scrivens barrelled in as Hermione’s eyes snapped back open.

“What the devil are you doing in, Granger? I heard you got called out to Black Manor last night, you must be exhausted!” His voice was sharp but she knew there was little bite behind it. He didn’t want her run down on the job, sure. But he cared about her well-being too.

“I’m okay” she replied with a stifled yawn. “I got a couple of hours kip before coming in.” It was a lie but she’d taken enough rejuvenation potion on her way in to make it seem plausible.

"I'll be having words with Potter about this, you realise? He can't keep calling you in as a stand-by Auror because he can't handle the situation on his own. He has a whole team under him, does he really need you too?"

Hermione smiled. Bless Harry for maintaining that line after all these years. At the start of his Auror career he really had insisted that Hermione join him on particular cases to guide him through things. He'd grown out of that need by now of course but in the early days he had freely admitted that Hermione was key to him staying alive this long.

"It was an all hands on deck kind of thing. Even Kingsley was called in for it." She said as way of explanation for Harry’s actions.

"Merlin’s beard…" Scrivens groaned, taking a seat opposite her. "There's something strange going on out there, Granger. Something Dark. And I have a horrible feeling there's more to come before we see the light again."

Hermione nodded solemnly at Scrivens ominous words. She could feel it too. 

"How's Bodgwell shaping up?" She asked, changing the subject on to something more tangible. "Have the Unspeakables been up to see him yet?"

Scrivens grunted. "Nope. Bastards have said there's a queue and we'll just need to wait. I don't know how much more we can do until they show up. The Obliviators haven't managed to crack into his real memories yet so we're no further forward with things."

“I’ll pop in on Luna today, see if she can chase things up for us.”

“‘Preciate it, Granger. You good to sort that lot out this morning?” Scrivens nodded his head towards the doors and the panicked interns behind it.

“I’m all over it boss.” Hermione answered, feeling a familiar warmth in her pocket. Once Scrivens had left she took a moment to reach in and retrieve the gold coin. 

_ Your coffee is divine. _

* * *

Narcissa had successfully located the coffee under a stasis charm in the kitchen and was on her second cup of the morning when the Galleon in her pocket grew warm with a new message from Hermione. 

_ One must never scrimp on good coffee. _

She smiled. Maybe Ms Granger wasn’t as uncivilised as it had first seemed at the beginning of their unlikely friendship. They were friends now, weren’t they? She pondered to herself as she sat down on the sofa in Hermione’s living room. They had agreed to be such after all and Hermione had come to her aid now on more than one occasion. 

Okay, so it was a rather one sided affair at the moment but she could make up for that. She just needed to know more about the woman than she knew from Draco’s griping during his school years. He had constantly complained about “that know-it-all Granger” throughout the years and it had been a constant sore point for Lucius that his son could not out-perform Ms Granger in a single subject. But aside from that she didn’t really know her at all. 

She was, undoubtedly, clever. That was clear from their interactions thus far. And her enthusiasm was unbridled. A terrifying ball of energy at times, certainly. But that was no bad thing really. Everyone should have a passion. If anything it was hard to see what Hermione wasn’t passionate about. The girl had been through so much in her life and still managed to find joy and intrigue in every corner.

Narcissa couldn’t say the same for herself. After the war she had felt exhausted, a feeling that had persisted for years. It hadn’t helped that she hadn’t seen a soul except spineless members of the MInistry of Magic when they intruded into her home. Draco had written at first, but he hadn’t been permitted to visit her. And it seemed that he too had tired of connection to British wizarding society when he had left for France. Once across the channel his letters had slowed, eventually stopped, and then her own returned to her unopened…

But of course, even Ms Granger had helped out there too! Draco had attended the divorce, had even given his permission as head of house for her to finally sever ties with Lucius. She ought to write to him really, thank him for coming to the ceremony, let him know that she was currently residing at Ms Granger’s home. How would he take that? Knowing his mother had moved in with an old school rival? It would sound ludicrous without explanation of what had happened at the Manor. Would he know about that? She didn’t know how far news would travel. Especially if Rita had been in the vicinity. The woman could sniff out drama like a bloodhound. It was likely then that the story would have gotten out and the news would soon follow that Narcissa was no longer at the Manor. He would worry, surely?

She resolved herself then. She would write to Draco. All she needed to do now was find where Hermione kept things like parchment and quills. If she were in the Manor she would have headed straight for her study but there was no room in Hermione’s flat for such a room. Here, it seemed, Hermione kept nothing but a small writing desk in the corner of her living room. How she managed to live in such tight confines Narcissa wasn’t sure. She took a seat at the desk and began opening drawers at random, noting the contents as she went. 

The top right hand drawer, as Hermione had noted in her letter, was empty save for a copy of  _ Twelfth Night _ that glowed faintly with portkey magic. She made sure to avoid touching it lest it activate itself at random and closed that drawer. The next drawer she tried seemed to be filled to the brim with sweets which proudly proclaimed themselves to be ‘sugar free!’. Narcissa could think of nothing worse and quickly closed the drawer. Why on earth would a woman with such an astoundingly clear sweet tooth (she had seen as much using legilimency at dinner) have such a stash of tasteless nonsense? She would have to enquire with Ms Granger when she returned home. In the third drawer she finally found what she was looking for - rolls upon rolls of crisp parchment and self-inking eagle feather quills all neatly stacked at the edge.

She pulled one of the rolls of parchment out and helped herself to a quill, placing both neatly on the desk before her. Now it was just a question of how she should go about explaining her whereabouts to her son...

_ Dear Draco… _

* * *

The door to Luna’s office swung open as soon as she approached it and Hermione was surprised to note that not only was Luna actually sat at her desk for once but that there was a second chair in the room as though she had been expecting her. The blonde looked up from her desk and gave Hermione a broad smile as the door closed behind her. “‘Mione,” she greeted in her usual musical lilt, “I thought you’d be down sooner or later.” She indicated for Hermione to take a seat opposite her, which she did. “I’m glad it’s sooner. If it was later I’m afraid the Minister would have at least one black eye.”

Hermione laughed. Luna had always been able to see through her, no matter how well she tried to hide her anger. Of course she would have seen how fuming she was with Kingsley.

“I take it you’re aware of what happened last night then?” She asked, leaning her head back to rest on the top of her chair and closing her eyes.

“It’s hard not to be aware of Dementor swarms appearing out of nowhere, especially in my line of work.” Luna replied, her voice losing some of its dream-like quality in her seriousness. “The Erumpents get very stressed when something like that happens. It was obvious something was going on last night by their behaviour alone. The rest I gathered from Kingsely storming into the Department this morning and demanding we all drop whatever we’re doing and get to work on the wards at Black Manor.”

Hermione’s eyes snapped open. “He’s been down here already?”

“Oh yes,” Luna replied, “first thing this morning. If he’d had any hair I would have expected him to be pulling it out. He was very vocal about the whole thing. Hardly seems a secret really…”

“And just how fast are the Department likely to move on this?” Hermione asked tentatively.

“Oh…” Luna smiled at her knowingly. “I don’t know that we’ll even get to look at the Manor wards until at least next week at the earliest. We’re very busy, you know. I believe we have a  _ Bogwad _ or someone to look at for you?”

“Bodgwell.” Hermione grinned. “Thanks Luna. You’re solving all my problems at once, you know that?”

“Not all of them.” Luna assured, taking a moment to play with the tiny wiggling vines of a plant on her desk. “But it might give you some headspace for one particular puzzle.”

As though Luna’s words had summoned it, another message from Narcissa burned in Hermione’s pocket. She tried to ignore it and focus on Luna further but the younger witch was already on her feet and heading to the door with the plant in hand. The door began spinning around the circular room as she approached, changing colour as it went. After a moment or so it slowed to a stop and settled on a deep burgundy with a central door knob. It swung open at Luna’s touch and she turned round to give Hermione a quick wave before it closed behind her.

Hermione waited a moment before approaching the door herself, taking the time whilst the door spun round the room to check Narcissa’s message.

_ Ms Granger, I don’t mean to alarm you, but your fireplace is glowing. _

“Oh shit.”

* * *

Narcissa eyed the fireplace warily, standing as far away from the glowing brickwork as she could. Treacle didn’t seem nearly as concerned. He was sprinting excitedly between Narcissa and the fireplace, his tail wagging so much Narcissa thought he was sure to break something. The fact that Treacle didn’t seem bothered by the unnatural glow in the living room didn’t make her feel better. The dog didn’t really seem to have much sense. He had been sleeping up until the moment the fireplace had begun glowing and from that moment on he had been feverishly tearing around the room.

She jumped at the sound of the front door being unlocked but her fears were soon put to rest as Hermione came rushing into the room. Treacle took the opportunity to launch himself across the room at Hermione to give her a face washing with his tongue. 

“Eugh, Treacle!” Hermione exclaimed with a small chuckle. “Not now. I have to deal with the fireplace!” She turned to Narcissa and gave an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry, Narcissa. I should have known this would happen.”

“What is it?” Narcissa asked, trying with all her might to not look like she had been hiding behind Treacle.

“It’s Ginny.” Hermione replied before adding “Ginny Potter. She’ll be worried after last night is all. Harry was at the Manor too so she’ll know pretty much everything.”

Narcissa stared at the glowing brickwork. “Ginny Potter… makes your fireplace glow?”

“Mhmm.” Hermione hummed, pulling her wand out to direct it at the ashes of the fireplace. “It’s something I set up for us because owl post doesn’t find its way here and I have a habit of getting absorbed in things so ignore the contact Galleon. A glowing fireplace is hard not to notice though.”

She crouched down by the ashes, frowning as words formed themselves in the grate. Narcissa crept closer, looking over Hermione’s shoulder to read the words herself, confident that if Hermione wasn’t afraid then neither should she be.

“Hermione,” she asked, placing a hand on Hermione’s shoulder (which caused Hermione to jump) “What is a  _ MILF _ ? And why would there be one in your home?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact - this chapter was originally meant to be called "160 Templeton Road, London" but I changed that when I came to realise we didn't spend nearly enough time there in this chapter. I'm not 100% sure what the next chapter will entail but I think we can safely say that a certain mischievous red head may make an appearance...
> 
> No promises that the next chapter will be up next week but I'll try!


	12. What is A MILF?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So um... Sorry for the delay folks. This took way longer than I expected to finish. 
> 
> I'll say nothing else here other than I hope you enjoy this small offering and to let you know that I very nearly called this chapter "Fantastic MILFs And Where To Find Them"
> 
> Bet_on_Black

_ What is a MILF? And why would there be one in your home? _

Hermione swore time slowed down in that horrifying moment. Her brain froze in shock. She had no idea how she could answer that question. 

_ No. Really. How the hell can I possibly explain to Narcissa Black what a goddamn MILF is?! I can’t. I just can’t. This is Ginny’s fault. Merlin, I could kill her.  _

She stood abruptly, nearly banging her head on the fireplace on her way up, and made to leave again. Narcissa’s hand wrapped around her wrist and tugged lightly, causing her to stop and face the witch who had asked a seemingly innocent question. 

“Hermione?” she asked softly. “Are you alright?” 

Hermione’s eyes drifted down to her wrist where Narcissa still held her and felt a blush begin to creep up her neck. “I am.” She said rather brusquely, gently extracting herself from Narcissa’s grip, never once looking up. “I just need to go see Ginny real quick. I’ll be back soon. She’ll be wondering why she can’t just step through the fire to me.”

She darted out into the hall and out the door before Narcissa had time to even say goodbye. The blonde witch found herself alone in the room, except for Treacle, at a loss for what to think. It was obvious the message had started Hermione but why she wasn’t sure. It had seemed a basic enough one with a simple question to be answered -  _ H tells me you have a MILF in your house?! When can I come over? _

If the message was indeed from Ginny Potter then it was logical to assume that the  _ H _ in question would be Harry Potter. He would have almost certainly been on hand last night. Presumably it was he who informed Hermione of the situation too… Narcissa didn’t have many people to be thankful for in her life but she supposed Harry was one of them. He had spoken at her trial all those years ago, recommending that she be pardoned for her actions given that she had lied to the Dark Lord. If he had indeed alerted Hermione last night to her predicament then she owed him an even deeper life debt.

None of that answered her initial question though - What exactly was a MILF? Whatever it was it clearly distressed Hermione to no end. So it couldn’t be a good thing, could it? And, whatever it was, it was a recently new addition to the home by the sounds of it. Perhaps if she took a look around the flat she might find this MILF and save Hermione the embarrassment of having to answer her question. Yes, that’s exactly what she would do. She’d look for this MILF herself and the matter need never arise again.

_ Now _ , she thought,  _ where would one hide a MILF? _

* * *

Hermione burst through the door of the Potter's house without knocking.

“Ginny!” She shouted from the empty hallway. “Ginevra Molly Potter you show your face! That was  _ not _ funny!”

A sniggering redhead appeared at the top of the stairs with a struggling toddler in her arms. The boy wriggled out of her arms and sent himself tumbling down the stairs in a muddle of limbs to greet his Aunt ‘Mione. She waved her wand and his descent slowed to a stop at her feet and allowed the boy to bump down gently on his backside.

“‘Lo James. How are you darling?” She said kindly, but still staring daggers up the stairs to his mother. She smoothed his untidy black hair so that it lay out of his eyes and listened to him happily chattering away as Ginny made her way slowly down the stairs.

“...And Daddy says if I’m really good he’ll take me out on his Firebolt later!”

“His Firebolt?” Hermione replied, giving the boy a fond smile. “I think if you’re really good you deserve a shot on your Mummy’s Firebolt Supreme! Don’t you, Ginny?”

Ginny laughed lightly but glared at Hermione. “Now now. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, no one is meant to know the Harpies have the Supremes yet. I think your Daddy’s Firebolt will do just grand, James.”

The little boy huffed but ran along happily enough when Ginny asked him to go look out his quidditch robes for when Harry returned. When they were alone at last Hermione turned her full attention to Ginny, resisting the urge to let both her wands slip from their holsters in her anger.

“What the hell Ginny??”

Ginny grinned and lounged back on the staircase, somehow making the uncomfortable position look relaxed. “So I’m right then? She’s there?”

Hermione sputtered in her attempt to respond which only made Ginny grin wider. She launched herself up from the stairs and wrapped arms around Hermione. “I  _ knew it _ ! Harry said Kingsley was fuming when he came out so  _ of course _ you got your way. How long will she be with you? What’s she like in a normal environment?” she gasped excitedly. “You only have one bedroom! What are the sleeping arrangements like? Do you top and tail? Is Narcissa Black a snorer?!”

Wrenching herself from Ginny’s arms Hermione took her turn to slump on the stairs, her head in her hands. “I didn’t get my way Ginny. He was going to send her to Azkaban. I… I couldn’t let that happen to her. Not when I know how horribly Dementors affect her. She nearly passed out during the divorce! I just… There was no other option and I panicked.”

Ginny sank down on the step next to Hermione. “So… Do you want her there? Or do you wish there was an alternative?” 

“Yes? No? Ugh, I don’t know Ginny! I just want her safe. She’s suffered enough as it is without having to deal with being thrown in Azkaban for being attacked!”

“Well,” said Ginny slowly. “There’s no place safer than your flat, that’s for sure. I know this place has all the wards the Ministry can throw at it but your flat is a whole different ball game.” She nudged Hermione playfully. “There’s nowhere in the world safer for her. 'Cept perhaps Hogwarts.”

Hermione laughed. “You sound like Hagrid when you phrase it like that. But you’re right, Gin. There’s nowhere else she could have gone that I would have accepted as  _ safe _ . But I won’t have you thinking that her staying with me is part of some nefarious plan! As for the sleeping arrangements, well, I’m in the living room on the sofa. So I don’t know if she snores or not.”

“Hermione… You know you’re a witch right? You could easily transfigure the sofa into an actual bed…”

“Shut up!” Hermione laughed, giving Ginny a playful push. “It was late and it’s not like I was going to sleep much anyway. I spent the night warding the flat against every dark thing I could think of. Then I had to make Narcissa a contact Galleon so she could reach me if there was an emergency, re-configure the emergency portkey to allow her to use it, block the floo network…”

“So  _ that’s _ why I couldn’t just step through!” Ginny interrupted Hermione’s listing. “You could have given me a heads-up on that you know? It’s not fun when the floo spits you back out. I might have bruised my tailbone the way I landed on the kitchen floor!”

Hermione smiled apologetically before replying with a smirk. “Serves you right for sending that message through then.”

“Excuse me! I sent that  _ after  _ I got sent sprawling across the floor.”

“Pre-emptive revenge. The floo knew you were going to make things difficult for me.” She swatted playfully at Ginny’s arm.

Ginny’s eyes lit up with mischief as she realised what Hermione was saying. “She read it, didn’t she? Does she know what a MILF is? Oh what did you tell her?!” 

“Nothing! I came here as soon as I read it. What the hell am I meant to tell her?”

“The truth?” Ginny replied with a cocked eyebrow. “That she’s a mum you’d like to fu-”

“GINNY!” Hermione exclaimed, face reddening by the second.

Ginny stood up and crossed her arms with a smirk. “Hermione Jean Granger, don’t tell me I’m wrong because I’m not.”

Hermione could only glare in response.

“Did you or did you not go on a date with Narcissa Black last night?” Ginny replied with a knowing look, pulling her friend up and walking through to the living room for a seat more comfortable than the stairs.

“I… It wasn’t… That’s not… It wasn’t a  _ date _ !” Hermione sputtered, wishing now more than ever that the ground would swallow her whole.

Ginny snorted with laughter. “Sure it wasn’t. Two witches going out for dinner at  _ the _ most exclusive restaurant in England and it’s not a date? No chance!”

“How do you even know I went out for dinner last night?!” Hermione exclaimed.

Ginny’s smirk softened into a gentle smile as she took Hermione’s hands in her own. “Y’know, for being the brightest witch of her age you can be pretty dumb sometimes. Did you not notice that half the Holyhead Harpies were there last night? They even waved to you! Jenny Fielding told me you’d totally blanked her for the hot piece of ass next to you.”

“Oh god.” Hermione groaned, completely mortified. It hadn’t occurred to her that there would be people there who knew her. She’d been so enthralled by the notion that Narcissa could just walk into somewhere like  _ The Crossed Wands _ as if she owned the place (which, of course, she did). “It wasn’t a date though. Honest.” Hermione added, quietly. “At least she didn’t say it was. And why would it be? She just said it was a thank you for all the help I’ve given her lately. It’s not like anything happened anyway.”

“Let me ask you something ‘Mione - how did she ask you to dinner?”

“Uh.” Hermione paused for a second, letting her mind drift back to the elegant note she had received. “She sent a note to my office, asking me if I would accompany her to dinner. That I was to consider it a small repayment of the debt she owed me for my help.”

“Mhm… And did the note do anything once you’d read it?”

Hermione frowned. How could Ginny possibly know that the note would do anything after reading? “It… It folded itself up to make an origami daffodil. But that’s just a neat party trick I thought? It’s not the first time one of her messages has done that. She sent me one before that did that too. After her divorce. To say she was looking forward to seeing me for tea. That time I went round to practice patronuses with her.”

Ginny let out a slow breath and arched an eyebrow. “Damn. She’s smooth.”

“What?” Hermione was confused. “Smooth? They’re notes with a fancy trick, Ginny. I suspect she does that charm on all her notes.”

The redhead sat back in her seat and considered her friend. “That’s not a party trick, ‘Mione. That’s a calling card. So you don’t forget her.”

It was Hermione’s turn to snort this time. “A calling card? What is she? The Joker?”

Ginny stared at her blankly. “Who’s The Joker? I doubt she's joking. She's most likely very  _ very  _ serious.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. She forgot sometimes that, despite the progress that had been made, people in the wizarding world rarely had the level of Muggle geekiness that she possessed. Shaking her head she said “It’s a Batman reference, forget I said anything… So what’s the purpose of this calling card in the wizarding world?”

“Well,” Ginny began, leaning forward in excitement to impart some wizarding wisdom on her friend. “Put it this way, every letter I sent Harry past the age of 17 turned itself into a golden snitch that would fly around the room…”

* * *

Narcissa was finding that looking for something when you didn't know what it was was an increasingly frustrating pastime. She knew from her earlier snooping that there was nothing obviously new in the living room and so had started her search in the bedroom and bathroom. Again, nothing obviously new that would throw Hermione into a state of turmoil. She considered herself in the mirror of the bathroom cabinet, having just inspected the interior to no avail. Whatever a MILF was she thought herself unlikely to recognise one even if it was staring her in the face.

The only place left to search in the small flat was the hall cupboard. Or at least she had thought it was a cupboard when she went to investigate. Upon opening the door she found herself staring at the results of one of Hermione’s more famed uses of the extension charm. In what should have been a cramped coat cupboard she found instead a compact library complete with comfortable reading nook by an enchanted window. 

She ran her fingers along the spines of the books as she moved through the room, which seemed to elongate itself the further she went in. Her fingertips tingled with reciprocal magic, letting her know by touch alone what each book contained. It was a complicated piece of magic that usually only existed in the larger wizarding libraries like Hogwarts and rarely in private collections. Narcissa found herself impressed. Of course, the library of Black Manor had similar magic running through it but only for the older texts. Anything added in the last century sat in a separate section of the library and was arranged by genre or speciality. Part of that was due to the Manor lying empty for a number of decades but also due to the fact that Narcissa hadn't fathomed out the spellwork for it yet. If she thought on it the last person to imbue the library in that way was Bellatrix and she wasn't particularly sure she wanted to feel the dark magic those particular books would contain...

But Hermione’s library felt much different to the darkness of the Black Library, her books tingled with light magic and filled her with a sense of knowledge as she crossed the tomes. Some of them, she noted, were works of fiction of varying genres. A number of them were wizarding titles that she recognised from her own collection but others had a different magical signature to them. It wasn’t weaker as such but it was a distinctly different feel. 

She stopped when she reached the next book that felt different and pulled it from the shelf. It had a hard red spine and black contrast on the front and back. Flipping it over she was greeted with what looked like a caricature of a man with angular features and a solid monobrow. She waited for the picture to move, to give some indication of the story, but it stayed resolutely still. It took her much longer than she would admit to anyone to realise why. It was a piece of muggle fiction! This explained why the magic beneath the spine felt different. Hermione had had to imbue this text with extra magic to allow it to inform anyone who touched it of its contents, there was no magic within to aid her. 

The book in question, now that she thought on it, filled her with a sense of trepidation and a kind of sadness that pulled at her heart. Admittedly the book was titled  _ The Bad Beginning _ but the magic coming from it suggested a kind of heartache. Why would Hermione own a book that felt so endlessly sad, like the loss of a loved one? She moved on to the next book in the row and felt the same inner twinge. This one had a green spine and when she removed it she saw a depiction of a serpent wrapped around a small child.  _ The Reptile Room _ . Judging by the style of the picture and the writing across the top this title was linked to the other.  _ A Series of Unfortunate Events. _ Well if the magic was anything to go by then it was a very terrible series of events indeed. She moved further along the shelf, noting that there were a further half a dozen books at least of the same series. 

Curiosity won her over and she took the first of the series over to the cushioned reading nook. With her back against a cushion and her legs curled under her she began to read the tale of what appeared to be three very unfortunate muggle children…

* * *

When Hermione was finally permitted to leave Ginny’s grinning presence, having spilled all the details of the previous night’s dinner, she felt both relieved and exhausted. Ginny was thoroughly convinced that the dinner had been a date. Hermione… wished she could still think it hadn’t been. She had no idea how to feel about the whole thing. Of course, she liked Narcissa. How could she not? She was witty, intelligent, obviously beautiful, she was also vulnerable and kind, and at times very sweet. But she was a former enemy and self-proclaimed Dark witch too. If their dinner had in fact been a date… what did that mean for Hermione? Was this the trickery of a Dark witch out for vengeance of some kind? Or was it really just a dinner between two new friends and that’s where everything stopped? She shook her head as she walked away from the Potter’s house. Was there really any use in thinking this over and over in her head? She needed to get back to the flat. She’d already been gone too long and her abrupt exit would be enough to explain without needing to say why she’d been gone so long. 

_ Oh sorry Narcissa, I was away so long because my best friend thinks I have a crush on you and that, even more bizarrely, you might have a crush on me too! Want to talk about the meaning of MILFs now whilst I wait for the ground to swallow me whole? _

One thing was for sure. All of this was Ginny’s fault. For the message in the fireplace and for filling her head with thoughts that would be difficult to hide when she had a sodding  _ Legillimens _ in the house! She apparated to the alley outside the flat and stood outside for a few minutes longer, contemplating her next move. Obviously they would need to cover the MILF thing. But perhaps she might be able to pass that off as a Ginny joke. As for her absence… Well, she could make something up on the wing. It’s not like Narcissa would immediately know if Hermione was lying about Ginny needing help with James or something similar.

Upon entering the flat though her plan of winging it went straight out the window as she was filled with a sudden panic. Narcissa was nowhere to be found. Not in the living room where she had seen her last, nor in the bedroom or bathroom. She wrenched open the door to the cupboard library, fully expecting to see nothing and return to her panic, only to find Narcissa Black curled up in the reading nook and  _ sobbing _ .

“Narcissa!” she gasped in both relief and bewilderment. “I thought you had left! Are you alright? What happened?”

Instead of giving her an answer Narcissa merely thrust the book she had been reading into Hermione’s hands and returned to wiping her tears away with a conjured tissue. Hermione looked down and found that she was holding a copy of  _ The Bad Beginning _ and was immediately filled with understanding. She placed the book on the small table to the side of the nook and took Narcissa’s hand in her own.

“Narcissa it’s okay. It’s not real!” She assured, giving the woman’s hands a squeeze. “It’s just a muggle book. Entirely fictitious, I promise you.”

Narcissa sniffed and gripped Hermione’s hands in return. “But… these children… they’re so b-b-badly treated and this, this  _ Snicket _ fellow just writes about them and does nothing to intervene!”

“Lemony Snicket isn’t real…” She said softly, tilting Narcissa’s head up with a gentle hand so that she could meet her gaze. “He’s a character created for the purposes of the books. A pen name.”

“Gosh.” she swiped at her eyes with her free hand. “You must think me so foolish. Of course it’s not real. But…" she gestured to the book on the table and its counterparts on the shelf. "Hermione, why do these books feel so sad? All of them? Every one I took from the shelf filled me with sadness!” Narcissa exclaimed, partly embarrassed that she had become so absorbed in the tale that she did not immediately recognise it as fiction.

Hermione smiled sadly at her in return. “That’ll be down to me. When I categorised those books I had just ended things with Ron and things with my parents were still difficult. I read the first one the year after the war ended and I suppose you could say I wasn’t really in a good place then either. I hadn’t gone to find my parents yet and I really wasn’t all that sure that I would ever find them, never mind be able to restore their memories. The magic probably held on to that over the years.” She tested the book in her hands and felt the weight of the emotions her magic had imbued in the pages.

"Oooft that's some hefty teenage trauma I left in there!" She joked, hoping to lighten the mood. 

Narcissa graced her with a small sad smile. "I imagine my library would be similarly affected had I ever managed to work out that spell." She stood then, taking the book from Hermione’s hands and replacing it on the shelf as she made her way towards the hall again. She paused before the door. "Do the… do the children survive that fiend, Count Olaf?"

Hermione beamed at her and walked to join her. "Narcissa, you are more than welcome to peruse my library at any hour and find out."

* * *

Later on in the evening the pair sat at opposite ends of the sofa with their now empty take out boxes in front of them. Hermione was rifling through papers for the Bodgewell case, trying to figure out just where he had gone awry. Narcissa was curled up with her feet neatly folded under her with a  _ The Bad Beginning  _ in hand once more, eyes racing through the words on the pages before her. Between them lay a stretched out Treacle, his tail slowly batting against Hermione’s leg as his head lolled on Narcissa’s lap, the blonde witch occasionally scratching between his ears.

With a huff of frustration Hermione dropped the papers on the table in front of her with a gentle thud. She turned with a smile to see Treacle receiving an ear scratch from Narcissa, his tail thumping merrily between Hermione’s leg and the sofa. 

“You’re such a suck up Treacle.” She chucked and rubbed at his now exposed belly. “I used to be your favourite! But no, now you have Narcissa to sit and scratch your ears for you. I'm just a thumping post for your tail now!”

Narcissa closed her book and laid it to the side. “Are you getting jealous that your familiar loves me more?”

Hermione raised a hand to her chest in mock horror. “How dare you! Treacle wouldn’t fall in love so easily, would you boy?”

Treacle, it turned out, was a filthy traitor. He rolled over, denying Hermione his belly, and wandered across to sit fully in Narcissa’s lap. The witch smirked mischievously and slipped Treacle something from up her sleeve.

“Narcissa Black!” Hermione exclaimed with a mixture of shock and laughter. “You’re bribing my dog.”

“Oh I think you’ll find that very hard to prove, Ms Granger.” Narcissa’s hand twitched and Hermione could have sworn she heard the familiar clink of Treacle’s treat jar in the kitchen. She rolled up her sleeves and bared her arms for Hermione’s inspection. “See? Nothing up my sleeves!”

“Do you ever play fair?” Hermione huffed.

Narcissa’s smirk smoothed out into one of her more genuine smiles. “No. Or at least not very often." She paused a momemt and then added in a lighter tone. "May I ask what you’re working on?” She gestured towards the abandoned pile of papers on the table.

“Ugh,” Hermione began with a groan. “It’s a pain of a case. One of our previous clients has gone off the deep end. Way darker than he was before and we can’t figure out where things went wrong for him.”

Narcissa reached for the papers asking “May I?” 

Hermione nodded. “May as well. I think if I look at them any longer all the words will join together.”

Narcissa gathered the papers up and sifted through them, page by page, frowning ever now and again at a detail. “He has no memory of getting the bracelets? Or giving them to the muggle family?”

“Nothing. We’ve had the Obliviators in and they can’t find the real memory. DoM will be going in tomorrow to see what they can find.”

“Hmm… I think you’d have better luck checking with the Border Force. It says here that his last uninterrupted memory is from his holiday in…” she checked the papers “...Sardinia? Yes. So it would make sense that something happened either in Sardinia or at the Border itself. I’m no expert but I suspect it would be easier to speak to the Border Force than to the Sardinian officials, no?”

“Of course!” Hermione replied, taking the papers from Narcissa to verify her thoughts. “We were looking at everything since he got back to his home. I didn’t even think to consider that he might have been intercepted on the way back!” She scribbled furiously on a spare piece of parchment and beamed up at Narcissa once she was done.. “Thank you! That’s a great help.”

“I think it’s the least I can do. You’ve let me into your home after all. Not to mention everything you’ve done previously. In fact, I was wondering if… Hermione. I’ve been thinking.”

“Oh?”

“Our arrangement. It seems rather one sided. My understanding of friendship is that it’s more equal in terms of giving and taking. And, well, so far I seem to be doing nothing but taking from you.” She admitted abashedly. 

“It’s okay, real-”

“No, Hermione. It’s not.” Narcissa cut her off. “You’ve given me a great deal lately - my freedom from Lucius, lessons in patronuses, and now your home whilst I await the repairs to my own. I wonder if… given the threats you may have to face with this case… would you allow me to teach you Occlumency?”

Hermione was stunned. “You want to teach me Occlumency?”

“I do believe that’s what I just offered, yes.” Narcissa returned with a smile. “It looks like you’re dealing with a Dark witch or wizard that specialises in memory and dare I say it, some level of mind control. Occlumency would be your best defence against it and judging by how unguarded your thoughts are...” Hermione swallowed thickly. For the barest of moments she’d almost forgotten Narcissa was a Legillimens. “...it would be wise to learn to defend your mind with more than your wand.”

“I… Wow.” Hermione stumbled over her words, her mind racing. “That’s an incredible offer, Narcissa. I’d be a fool to turn it down.”

“You would.” Narcissa agreed, sitting back and stroking the ears of a now gently snoring Treacle. 

“Then I accept.”

“Excellent!” Narcissa replied, her eyes sparkling. “Although I will ask just one more thing of you tonight, if I may, Hermione.”

Hermione met her gaze, not sure if she was imagining that cool feeling at the forefront of her mind or not. “Yes?”

“Will you please tell me what a MILF is?” Narcissa asked exhaustedly. “I’ve searched this flat high and low and I cannot fathom what it might be.”

“Oh…” Hermione turned aside and stared at the embers in the fireplace that had brought that word to Narcissa’s attention. “I was kind of hoping you might have forgotten about that.”

“I won’t press if the matter distresses you but I will admit that I’m curious. The message seemed to cause a bit of a stir…”

Hermione rubbed the back of her neck with her hand, sighed, and began. “I’ll tell you but I want it understood that this is all Ginny’s fault. It’s her that says it, not me!”

“Consider it understood. Mrs Potter is entirely to blame.” Narcissa provided willingly.

“A MILF is… Oh Merlin, I can’t believe I’m having to explain this. And to you of all people! A MILF is a slang term. Usually used by immature people, I might add!” Hermione couldn’t help her face from reddening and desperately wished she could stop there. But she had promised an explanation and if it meant Narcissa would truly teach her Occlumency… “It stands for Mum I’d Like to Fu- Let’s just say it’s not a particularly elegant term.”

Something very unexpected happened then. Narcissa Black snorted. Not a snort of derision but one of laughter. The snort developed into a full blown laugh that shook Treacle awake and sent him sprawling out of her lap. “Oh Merlin’s trousers, that’s hilarious!” She managed to get out between wheezing breaths. “I absolutely must thank Mrs Potter for her assessment of me. That really has tickled me.”

"You're… you're not mad?" Hermione asked, relief flooding her.

"Oh heavens no! Is that why you went rushing out? You thought I'd be angered by your friend's message?" Narcissa let her hand rest on Hermione's arm briefly as she brought herself out if her laughing fit.

"Something like that." Hermione muttered, feeling her arm heat up and tingle where Narcissa's hand lay.  _ Why on earth did her own body have to betray her like this?? _

As if feeling Hermione’s body respond to her touch Narcissa gave it a faint squeeze before releasing it and standing. "Please do tell your dear friend that I'm flattered. It's always good to know I've not lost my touch. Now," she addressed Hermione in a more serious tone. "I really think we both ought to go to bed."

For a fleeting moment Hermione's mind froze over in panic.  _ Did she just…  _ We _ should go to..? _

"Goodnight Hermione." Narcissa's cool voice melted through her brain fog as the blonde witch took her leave.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note to say I think you're all wonderful for your continued comments, bookmarks and kudos whilst I've been battling with this one. 
> 
> I'll be back (hopefully) soon with your next chapter which, if plans go to plan, will be titled "Occlumency"
> 
> Bet_on_Black


	13. M Is For Mudblood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thiiiiiis is not the chapter I meant to write. But there we go.
> 
> I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Bet_on_Black

A cool hand caressed her forehead, fingers teasing gently to move frazzled hair to the side. She opened her eyes, slowly; fearing that if she opened them too fast the hand would disappear and the moment would be over. She had nothing to fear though, the moment her eyelids parted they were captured by a dazzling blue. A blue so bold and bright that she felt like she’d slipped effortlessly into a calm sea. She was safe here. Nothing would harm her.

“Did you like my gifts, Hermione?” A gentle voice said, directing her to the paper flowers sat in their makeshift home of a pen organiser. The paper began to change from a creamy parchment colour to produce brilliant green stems and yellow and orange petals. “I made them for you. _Only_ you. I could make you more if you like?”

She would like that very much if it meant she got to keep seeing such beauty every day. She opened her mouth to say so but found that her mouth was immediately captured by a set of soft lips gently brushing against her own. Heat spread through her body at their touch and she allowed her eyes to flutter shut again, revelling in the feeling of pure bliss running through her. A warm tingling in her magic and on her skin let her know that long thin fingers were running up her arms, up over her shoulders and on to her neck as the kiss deepened. The fingers were cold to the touch but not unpleasantly so as they caressed her neck. 

“I think you would like that.” The voice whispered against her cheek, the kiss broken all too soon for Hermione’s liking. “I think you’d like a lot of things… Oh the things I could do with you, Hermione…” The voice was at her ear now, tickling the skin of her earlobe with its breath, soft hair brushing against her cheek. It wasn’t wrong, she thought. She would like anything offered, of that she was sure as she felt herself whimper helplessly before letting her eyes flutter open again. 

Instead of the smooth blonde she was expecting she was met with dark raven coloured curls. She tensed at the same time as the hands tightened around her neck, cruel nails digging into the soft skin underneath. The eyes that came into view now were no longer blue but a dark, almost obsidian colour. Hermione reached up in an attempt to claw at the hands locked around her throat but found that touching them made her skin burn. Tears formed in her eyes and started to slowly bubble over until they were a stream down her cheeks. She tried to get a breath in but the grip on her throat was too tight.

“What’s that Muddy? You don’t like it?” Bellatrix mocked in a singsong voice followed by a loud cackle. “My sister isn’t here to save you this time, Muddykins. It’s just you and me. All on our lonesome…” Her hold loosened enough for Hermione to take a desperate breath before tightening once more. “Oh the things I’m going to do with you…” A wicked grin spread across her face, yellowing teeth peeking through between dark red lips.

She was on her back now. A hard, unforgiving, mattress beneath her. Bellatrix stalked towards her from the otherside of the room like a wolf edging towards its prey. She tried to move but couldn’t. The most she could manage was a halfhearted wiggle as Bellatrix lept on to the bed and straddled her at the waist. Her wand drawn and pointed straight at Hermione's chest.

“What’s the matter Muddy? Were you enjoying it more when you thought I was my sister? Would it make you feel better if it was dear Cissy sitting on top of you?” She lent forward until her face was hovering just inches from Hermione’s, her foul breath engulfing Hermione so much that she wanted to hold her breath to avoid breathing it in. 

“I bet you’d love that, wouldn’t you?” She bucked her hips against Hermione’s harshly, drawing a cry of pain from the witch below her. “Does it hurt? Does wanting it so badly hurt, Muddy? I bet you’d be screaming her name by now if it were her on top of you instead of me.” Hermione whimpered again as Bellatrix thrust her hips against her once more.

“I should take offence really. That you want her but not me. Haven’t we spent more time at intimate quarters, Muddlington?” Bellatrix sat back and smirked to herself and Hermione tried with all her might to squirm away but she was held tight in place by the weight of the dark witch. Bellatrix directed her wand slowly towards Hermione’s shoulder, letting it drag carelessly on the woolen fabric of her jumper. Without warning she slashed wildly, the force of the spell cutting through Hermione’s jumper and into her flesh below. Hermione screamed as the pain burned through her like fire, barely noticing when Bellatrix wrenched the now severed sleeve from her arm.

“I marked you, Muddy. You’re _mine_ .” Bellatrix whispered with a kind of reverence in her voice, her ice cold fingers tracing over the scar on Hermione’s arm, causing her magic to prickle and sting under the surface. “The very fact that you _think_ you could ever touch someone like Cissy… It’s disgusting. Repugnant.” The dark witch spat at her, directing her wand to the scar, flipping her wand round to hold it like a quill in her hand. “You’re nothing but a filthy little _mudblood_. Scum not even worthy to touch the boots of purebloods. I think it’s time to remind you of that fact, don’t you?” 

She stabbed her wand into Hermione’s flesh like a dagger, wrenching the wound open all along the scar tissue seams. Hermione screamed, wishing through all the pain that she could do something, anything, to get the witch off her. If only she could move, even just enough to put Bellatrix off balance long enough for her to crawl away.

“Spell it with me, Muddy!” Bellatrix cackled over her screams as she worked her wand through Hermione’s flesh. “Mudblood is spelled - M!” The wand dragged through her arm, severing tendons, muscles on it’s way.

“U!” Hermione could feel the wand grating against her bone, her nerves set alight as though on fire, the pain blinding her.

“D!” Her throat was raw from screaming but Bellatrix would not relent.

“B! Nice and loud now, Muddy, say it with me!”

She was sobbing now, willing to do anything that would make the pain stop.

“B-b-b B!!” she yelped as Bellatrix shifted to put more weight behind her wand.

“L!” Bellatrix yelled gleefully, hearing Hermione echo her tearfully.

“O!” They said in unison, Bellatrix cackling wildly above Hermione who was starting to feel cold, like the very life was leaving her.

“And another one! O!” She dragged her wand round in a slow, painful circle, rejoicing at Hermione twitching beneath her. 

Perhaps she was becoming numb to the pain or maybe the pain itself was fading but Hermione felt the fire of her nerves calming and her magic tingling faintly as though greeting an old friend. 

Was this what it felt like to die? Harry would know, she thought, he’s died before, right? 

Her mind was calming now. Even Bellatrix’s voice was becoming faint, like it was happening far off in the distance. If this was death… well it wouldn’t be awful. It was already a million times better than Bellatrix’s murderous ministrations.

“You’re not dying.” A voice interrupted her thoughts.

Oh, well that was nice. 

Hey… that voice… I … I like that voice.

“You’re going to be okay, Hermione. Trust me.”

She did trust the voice. Of course she did. Why wouldn't she?

* * *

Narcissa woke with a start. The room was dark and cold. For a moment she feared another Dementor attack until she realised it was just the chill of the night. She was about to roll over and go back to sleep when she heard a crash and the deep rumbling growl of Treacle from the next room. Her wand was in her hand before she had even left the bed, casting a Silencing charm at her feet so that she could move through the flat unheard.

She opened the door carefully, wand arm outstretched, ready to cast any number of offensive spells. The hallway was empty but light was spilling in from the open living room door. From inside she could hear Treacle’s growls growing louder. Darting across the hall silently, she peered around the doorframe and saw her book from earlier lying on the floor, pages crumpling at odd angles, sitting spine side up. Treacle was standing at the edge of the sofa, tail low and hackles raised, nose nudging at the twitching arm of Hermione who lay unconscious on the sofa.

“ _Homenum Revilio!_ ” Narcissa cast quietly. Nothing. She relaxed slightly, slipping her wand into the waistband of her pyjama trousers and entering the room. Immediately Treacle turned to her and whined, padding towards her and then nudging the backs of her legs to push her in the direction of Hermione. She crouched down beside the unconscious witch, seeing how pale and vulnerable she looked. Beads of sweat clung to her temple and her face was set in a frown. 

“Hermione?” she lay a gentle hand on the witch’s forehead, brushing a stray strand of hair to the side. The woman was ice cold and began to shake violently. First in the arm which she had flung out and then the tremors moved through her entire body. Behind them Treacle started growling again, trying to get past Narcissa to nudge at Hermione’s arm again.

“What is it, Treacle?” Narcissa asked the dog, reaching for Hermione’s arm and drawing back the sleeve to reveal angry scar tissue that spelled out the word ‘Mudblood’. 

Narcissa gasped and felt her heart pang. The scar looked like it was fresh and newly carved into Hermione’s pale skin. Treacle barked angrily and made to lick the wounds but Narcissa pushed him back. She reached out to touch them herself but had to draw back quickly as the scar seemed to sting at her very magic.

“Bella…” she muttered darkly, eyes narrowing as she withdrew her wand from her waistband again. She should have known that Bellatrix would ensure her particular brand of cruelty would outlive her. Judging by the way Hermione was convulsing she had a fair idea of what was going on. Hermione was reliving her encounter with Bellatrix at Malfoy Manor and the dream was causing the cursed scar to reactivate itself. There weren’t many defences against Bella’s kind of magic but she knew of one that would at least keep Hermione from the worst of the pain until the dream ended.

With a gentle swish of her wand Hermione’s still shaking body was lifted up off the sofa enabling Narcissa to slip in behind her and sit crossed legged on the sofa. She directed Hermione’s body back down slowly until the witch was lying half on the sofa and half against Narcissa. She wrapped her arms around her, taking care not to touch Hermione’s scar as she did so, and pulled the witch against her so that Hermione’s back was flush against her chest. 

Hermione whimpered and Narcissa instinctively tightened her grip. Placing her chin on the younger witch’s shoulder she closed her eyes and breathed deeply, seeking a calm within herself before she began. Then, slowly so as to not startle Hermione, she reached out her mind to seek Hermione's. She wouldn’t look directly at what Hermione was experiencing but she could sense it still. The fear in Hermione’s mind was almost overwhelming.

Narcissa focused on her calm centre and began to project it outwards, past the boundaries of her own mind and into Hermione’s. It wouldn’t stop the process but it would provide shield enough for Hermione to wake herself up. 

_Am I dying now? Harry would know… If it means this stops I don’t think I’d mind… It’s not so awful a way to go…_

Hermione’s thoughts floated through as if in a haze; like it took her some time to articulate each notion.

_You’re not dying._ Narcissa tried to reassure her. That was the last thing she needed Hermione thinking right now.

_Oh… Good… I think? Yeah. Hey, I like… I like your voice. Your voice is good._

At any other time Narcissa might have smiled at that but at that moment her thoughts were solely focused on pulling Hermione out of this safely.

_You’re going to be okay, Hermione. Trust me._

_I do..._

She paused, breathing deep in preparation for what she must do next. She wasn’t even sure it would work but it would speed things up if she just had a bit more control of the situation. Yes, she’d have to do it this way. It would avoid Hermione going into shock. She’d just have to hope Hermione would forgive her once it was over…

“Hermione,” she said aloud more for her sake than the unconscious witch’s. “I’m sorry but… I need to do this.” She inhaled deeply and moved her wand around so that it was pointed at the underside of Hermione’s chin.

“ _Imperio!_ ”

* * *

The cool presence was in her mind again but it felt different this time. Almost like it had been a guest before but now it was in charge? Strange, she thought, why does this feel weird?

_You’re okay Hermione._ A soothing voice from within her own mind told her.

_I am?_

_You are. Open your eyes for me._

She did as the voice bid, opening her eyes to find herself in the living room of the flat, sat on the sofa with a warm presence at her back. _That ought to be alarming,_ she thought. 

_But it’s not alarming, is it?_

_No_ . She agreed. _It’s fine actually. Perfectly fine._

_Good_ . The voice said. _Sit forward for me Hermione_.

Hermione obeyed the voice, shuffling forward on the sofa and then swinging her legs down from the sofa until her feet touched the floor. Beside her Narcissa stood up, stretched and then crouched down in front of her.

_Hold out your left arm for me._

Her arm moved and she could feel something trickling down it. She went to look but Narcissa’s hand stopped her head in its tracks, meaning she looked straight into the woman’s face instead. She looked tired and worried. Hermione was about to ask if she was okay when the voice appeared again.

_I’m okay. But you’ve not to look at your arm, okay?_

She nodded meekly, feeling that whilst she actually did want to look there was a logic behind the voice. Narcissa’s hand dropped down to her arm, her fingers lightly tracing over her skin. 

_Stay still. No matter what you feel. Stay still._

Why would she need to stay sti-

Pain lanced through her arm and she would have flinched away but the voice had been clear - she was to stay still, no matter what. Narcissa’s hand gripped her wrist tightly whilst the other did... whatever it was that was causing the pain. She tried to hold it in, not let on how much it hurt but the tears still came tumbling down as she stared straight ahead. Narcissa must have noticed at some point, the pain faded for a moment and her hand came up to brush some of the tears away.

“I’m sorry. I promise this won’t be for much longer. You’re doing so well.”

When the pain returned it was like electricity in her very veins, it stung at her magic and she choked out a sob but remained still.

_Not long. Keep still and it’ll be over soon._

Narcissa worked quickly and methodically. Her wand making smooth passes just over the scar, lifting a dark smoke-like substance from the wounds as it went. The air smelt like burning flesh and her nose wrinkled at it. She knew if she didn’t do this now then the problem would only persist, perhaps even get worse. This was her one chance to help Hermione. She couldn’t completely remove the curse, Bella had made sure of that, but she hoped she could lessen the effects.

The last of the smoke was drawn up from the scar and into her wand. But she wasn’t done yet. Wordlessly she summoned for a bottle of Dittany and began applying it liberally up and down Hermione's arm once the tiny bottle had zoomed through from her trunk. Hermione’s skin sizzled as the Dittany made contact, causing Hermione to hiss with pain, but she kept still as instructed.

“Sorry.” Narcissa muttered. “I just want to clean this up and then we’ll be done.”

She flicked her wand and soft bandages shot out from the tip, gently looping around Hermione’s arm at Narcissa’s direction. They pulled tight around the arm causing Hermione to let out another whimper of pain. Narcissa turned to her then, taking Hermione’s hands in her own and pulling lightly.

_Stand up. You need to rest now._

_This is where I sleep._

Hermione turned to return to the sofa but Narcissa’s hand was at her back, guiding her out of the living room.

_Not tonight. You’ll sleep in a proper bed tonight. Come with me._

Hermione went with her then, only needing gentle prodding to sit down on the bed whilst Narcissa fetched her night things. The only real resistance she gave was when Narcissa made to remove Hermione’s jumper.

_No._

_Hermione, let me do this._

_I… I don’t want you to._

_You’re fighting me. Don’t fight me. Please don’t fight me Hermione. Nothing will happen to you. Now let me take off your jumper._

She met little resistance after that, Hermione lifted her arms above her head and allowed Narcissa to remove her jumper carefully, avoiding the newly bandaged arm as much as possible. Her hands skimmed lightly over Hermione’s scarred back as she removed the witch’s t-shirt, swapping the garment out for a baggier t-shirt she’d found in one of the drawers.

_Lie back. I need to take off your trousers_.

She felt more than heard Hermione’s discomfort this time and added. _Just to put shorts on. You’ll be more comfortable. I won’t harm you. I’ll never harm you. Lie back Hermione._

Again, Hermione did as instructed, leaning back until her head met the mattress. Narcissa slipped Hermione’s jeans off quickly, not wanting Hermione to be more uncomfortable than necessary and replaced them with a pair of white cotton shorts.

_Legs in the bed now, Hermione. We’re going to go back to sleep._

_...We?_

“I’m going to stay with you.” she said, walking round the side of the bed and climbing in next to her. “I can keep the nightmares at bay for tonight but it works better if we have physical contact. We can work on a better solution in the morning.”

_But. You're a pureblood and I'm nothing but a mudblo-_

_Sleep now, Hermione._

Hermione’s eyes closed and her breathing evened out at once. Narcissa drew herself closer to the younger witch and looped an arm around Hermione’s waist, pressing as much of her body against her as she dared. She was exhausted now so needed as much contact as possible to provide Occlumency for them both as they slept. It wasn't ideal but she couldn't risk the alternative.

How long had Hermione been having these nightmares? Surely the brightest witch of her age had realised that scars like that couldn’t go untreated? Though, Narcissa admitted to herself, there were hardly many witches or wizards outside of Azkaban who would even recognise this magic let alone any who would offer to help. Bella had always had a cruel streak to her magic but this was a particularly dark and menacing aspect of it. 

At the thought of her sister she Instinctively curled round Hermione’s still form and pressed their bare legs against each other. She summoned the strength to project her mental shield into Hermione’s mind again and closed her eyes. She was in for a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, I really didn't mean to write this chapter at all. And then I went and wrote it...
> 
> I promise the next chapter will be Occlumency!
> 
> As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts, ramblings, general gripes etc so please leave a comment if you have anything!
> 
> Bet_on_Black


	14. The Scar and The Memory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So after a nearly month-long disappearance you will notice that this is, once again, not Occlumency. 
> 
> But! 
> 
> The good news is that I now know where this story will end. I've decided that in order to do what I want to do with the plot this fic will now be part of a series so, whilst this particular story may be drawing to a close soon, it will pick up again in a sequel!
> 
> Anyhoo, enough of my waffling. I hope you enjoy this next installment.
> 
> Bet_on_Black

The ache in her arm woke her and she cursed what must have been another night of stumbling into objects after one too many firewhiskys. Her head, however, didn’t hurt which was strange. She cracked open an eye, sure that the morning light would trigger the inevitable headache. The light she saw though was that of soft golden blonde hair falling in gentle waves over pale skin. Hermione froze in horror.

_ Oh God. _

It dawned on her then that she was back in her own bed and that her arm was freshly bandaged. 

_ Shit. _

She carefully extricated herself from Narcissa’s limbs and crawled out the bed, beating a hasty retreat into the hall, only stopping to pick up her clothes from the floor where they had been neatly folded. Crossing quickly into the bathroom she closed the door behind her and sank down onto the cool tile floor. Hands shaking, Hermione unravelled the bandage from her arm and stifled a gasp as the scarring beneath revealed itself. The slur shone up at her in bright red shiny scar tissue. It looked newly healed. 

So maybe she hadn’t been drinking last night after all; but that didn’t explain why she couldn’t remember how she had ended up in bed with Narcissa. She thought hard, what had she been doing last night? 

Her mind drifted back to the conversation with Narcissa, explaining Ginny’s message and Narcissa’s apparent glee at finding out she could be considered a MILF. Narcissa had effectively sashayed her way out of the room soon after, bidding Hermione a good night. Hermione had thought a lot on those swinging hips before eventually giving in and attempting to sleep on the sofa. She’d had bugger all sleep in the past few days so it really hadn’t taken long at all for her to drift off.

It came to her then. Memories of the dream she had slipped into. She blushed to think of it again but it had been so  _ good _ . It had felt so real, so powerful and then… And then it hadn’t. The memory jarred in her mind like milk that had suddenly turned sour. 

She’d had a nightmare. That must be it. The specifics were missing but if her scar was newly healed again then that made sense. Had Narcissa healed her then? Why couldn’t she remember any of it? Before she could ponder on it any longer the sound of claws scraping on the door broke through her train of thought. Outside the bathroom Treacle whimpered and whined to be let in.

She picked herself up off the floor and opened the door to let Treacle in. He bounded through as soon as the door was open wide enough for him to slip in; knocking Hermione back on her rear in his excitement to get to her. The beagle licked excitedly at her face and then began sniffing her, moving his way down from her hair to her arm. He gave it a tentative lick, raising his eyes as he did so, as though asking if it was okay.

“I told you I’d look after her, Treacle.” Narcissa said from above the pair, leaning against the doorpost.

Hermione’s head snapped up in response to Narcissa’s voice, taking in the rumpled bedclothes, muzzed hair and tired expression. 

“You… looked after me?” Hermione asked in confusion. Something about the thought, combined with Narcissa’s appearance, made her stomach flip in a weird way.

Narcissa crouched down beside her, scratching Treacles ears briefly before gently moving the dog aside so she could assess Hermione’s arm. She took her wrist in soft hands, keeping her touch light so as to not aggravate the scar further.

“You gave Treacle and I quite the scare last night.” She muttered, tracing the letters with her finger tips. Upon reaching the curve of the ‘D’ Narcissa looked up. “I suspect you don’t remember a great deal about last night. I…” she paused, uncertainty creeping into her voice. “I had to do something I’d rather not have but, the circumstances being what they were… I didn’t feel I had a choice, Hermione. I want you to know that. I did what I thought was best in order to keep you safe.” Her voice was soft, almost tentative, like a child expecting to be told off.

“What did you do?” Hermione asked, uneasiness settling in. She didn’t like the lack of surety in Narcissa’s voice. 

Narcissa’s eyes shimmered as she met Hermione’s gaze. For once her emotions were laid bare on her face. She was terrified and racked with worry but she had to tell Hermione what she had done if there was any hope that they could keep the trust they’d so tentatively built.

“You have to understand that my sister’s magic is a terrible thing. The nightmare you were having was caused by your scar. It’s a horrible kind of magic, the more you dream of that night the worse it will become. How it hasn’t consumed you before now I don’t know.” Narcissa’s breath hitched in her throat and it took her a second or two to continue. “I saw no other way to stop what you were experiencing last night but to enter your mind and expand my own form of Occlumency for you to defend against Bella’s magic. But I couldn’t let you wake normally, the pain from your scar would have sent you into shock. I had to do something I felt deeply uneasy with. I-”

“You put me under the Imperius Curse.” Hermione finished for her quietly. She pulled her arm slowly from Narcissa’s grasp, not sure she could bear her touch any longer.

Narcissa bowed her head, her fingers curling up into her hands to tense now that Hermione had removed her arm. “I did.” Her voice was no more than a whisper. “I saw no other way.”

Hermione wasn’t sure what to think. On the one hand she could understand Narcissa’s actions, made in panic. But on the other… She had used an Unforgivable Curse on her. Something she shouldn’t have been able to do given the wards. She had specifically crafted that into the wards! Narcissa should not have been able to use any spell against her that could cause harm. 

She needed space. To think. To figure out what had happened. 

Narcissa inched closer, desperate for Hermione to know how sorry she was. Her hands reached for the younger witch once more. But it was too close. Too close for Hermione to handle right now. She stood up abruptly and walked around Narcissa.

“I have to go to work.”

“Hermione.” Narcissa reached for Hermione even as she was retreating into the hall. “You shouldn’t. We don’t know how your scar will react after last night.”

“I’m with the Department of Mysteries today. I’m sure they can handle it.” Hermione said as she wandered through to the living room and closed the door behind her.

Narcissa remained sitting on the bathroom floor, her hand still outstretched for Hermione when she heard the faint  _ pop _ that signified Hermione had left the flat. She let her hand fall and stared crestfallen at the closed door, wishing Hermione would come back. 

* * *

Strictly speaking Hermione shouldn’t have been able to apparate directly into Luna’s office but she hadn’t really been thinking clearly and that, bizarrely, was the only way to do exactly as she had. It was a very Luna set up to have.

She landed almost directly on top of Luna’s desk and had to catch herself to prevent falling into it entirely.

“Morning ‘Mione.” Luna said from behind a copy of  _ The Quibbler _ without so much as a flinch. “There’s a fresh cuppa going if you want it. I’ll only be a moment or two. I’m just reading Daddy’s latest article on the Blibbering Humdinger we think is nesting behind the begonias in the garden.” She added in her soft lilt, a hand reaching out from behind the magazine to place a cup and saucer in front of Hermione.

On any other day Hermione might have rolled her eyes at the mention of Blibbering Humdingers living in Luna’s garden, or even existing at all. But today she was just glad Luna was there and apparently not surprised to see her. After a moment or so Luna folded her magazine closed and directed her attention to Hermione.

“You look tired. Did you have another one of your nightmares?”

Hermione sipped her tea and nodded slowly. “Apparently so. I don’t really remember though.”

Luna merely raised an eyebrow in response, meaning Hermione had to continue her train of thought.

“I mean I  _ was _ dreaming and I know that it turned bad. I just don’t know how. I don’t remember. I can’t remember anything since going to sleep last night. S-s-she… Luna.” The cup was shaking in her hand, rattling off of the saucer, her breath suddenly coming out in ragged gasps.

Luna rushed round the desk, took the cup and saucer from Hermione and placed her hands in Hermione’s. “You’re okay ‘Mione. Just breathe. It’s just a panic attack. You’ve handled these before. Breathe with me. In and out. Nice and slow.”

Hermione nodded and tried her best to do as Luna said, breathing as deeply as she could until the shaking subsided and she had her breathing back under control. After several minutes she wiped away some of the tears that had loosed themselves in her panic. Luna gave her hands a gentle squeeze and summoned her chair to her so that she could sit opposite Hermione. 

Hermione gave her a small smile in thanks before continuing in a slow, tremulous voice. “Narcissa says my nightmares are caused by my scar. That B-B-Bellatrix used some kind of  _ foul  _ magic that makes things worse the more it happens.” She rolled up her sleeve, still sniffing away tears, to show Luna the newly healed scar. “She used Occlumency to shield me from the nightmare but then… She said that letting me wake normally would have put me in shock so she… She did something awful Luna.” her voice had faded into a breathless whisper by the end, meaning Luna had to lean in to hear Hermione’s last words.

“How awful? You’re still here, right? It can’t be that bad, surely?” Luna offered with a gentle smile, wiping a stray tear from Hermione’s cheek with her thumb.

“The Imperious Curse.” Hermione whispered. 

A simple “Oh” was all Luna could muster in response.

“So I don’t know what else was done, how long I was under it... I don’t even know how she managed it, Luna!” Hermione let the words spill out in a rush. “She shouldn’t have been able to use any Unforgivables! The wards specifically prevent her for using magic to harm me, Luna. I’ve never had any of my wards fail before. What if I’ve made a terrible mistake by letting her stay with me? What if my wards can’t contain her? Oh god…” She covered her face with her hands and groaned loudly, hearing the sound echo around Luna’s office ominously.

Luna leant back in her chair and thought for a moment. “Show me the ward you used.” She reached behind her to her desk and grabbed a plant pot with a small cactus in it and pushed it into Hermione’s hands. “Put the same ward on this.”

Hermione looked at her as though she was asking the most ridiculous thing in the world. “Trust me.” Luna added, sensing Hermione’s confusion. “I think I know what happened.”

Bewildered Hermione let her wand slide into her hand from its holster and began crafting that ward around the cactus. When she was done Luna sat back with a smile on her face and although she didn’t know why Luna was smiling Hermione felt herself relax at the sight. If Luna wasn’t worried then that was surely a good sign?

“Your wards work fine Hermione. See here?” Luna took her own wand and highlighted a section of the ward. “You’ve specified that magic can’t be used to harm. But you’ve not specified against Unforgivables or offensive spells. So  _ technically _ those spells can be used so long as the intent is pure.”

Realisation dawned on Hermione at last, followed swiftly by guilt. “She must think I’m the most ungrateful shit in the world.” she murmured, her hands clutching each other in a wringing motion.

Luna reached across and took Hermione’s hands in her own again. “I think it more likely she’ll be worried. Knowing you, I guess you didn’t really give her a chance to explain?”

Hermione’s eyes flitted down to the ground. “I might have rushed out of the flat in a panic…” She admitted, a little ashamed.

Luna smiled knowingly and tilted Hermione’s head up to look at her. “One day you’ll figure out this whole communication thing, Hermione. And for your sake I really hope that’s soon. You deserve to be happy, you know?”

Hermione looked into Luna’s grey eyes with confusion but found before she could ask anything the blonde was pulling her to her feet and walking her to the door. She brushed the very corner of Hermione’s lips with a light kiss and gently pushed her out the door. “I’ll be up to see about your Bodgwell chap in a bit.”

* * *

Narcissa spent the rest of the morning pacing the flat and throwing out questions and half formed theories to Treacle as he lay on the sofa watching her tread a hole into the carpet.

“Really Treacle, how am I meant to show her I really meant no harm when she won’t give me the chance?” she asked the dog for what must have been the hundredth time that morning. With a less than dignified huff, she slumped into the lone armchair in the room and ran her hands through her unbrushed hair. 

“Does she do this a lot?” she asked the dog with a groan. “Just disappear without letting people explain anything?”

Treacle whined in response.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Narcissa said with a sigh, leaning back and closing her eyes. She was equal parts frustrated with and concerned for Hermione. It might have been a while since she’d last interacted with other members of society but she still found she wasn’t used to being intentionally ignored and denied the chance to put forth her point. 

If Hermione had just given her five minutes she would have been able to explain why she had done what she had done. The younger witch hadn’t even responded to Narcissa’s message of “I can explain” through the contact Galleon. That had been two hours ago and still Narcissa’s Galleon did not warm with even a half hearted acknowledgement.

She took out the coin again and stared at it as if the mere force of her glare could inspire Hermione to reply to her message. When the coin did in fact grow warm in her hands and a new message began to scrawl itself hastily across the metal she nearly dropped it in surprise.

_ I think we need to talk _ .

Narcissa’s stomach dropped. 

Of course, talking was exactly what she wanted to do right now but to see it put so plainly by Hermione made her nervous too. If they were going to talk about this then she needed to be able to put her point forward clearly. 

“Ugh!” she cried out into the room, startling Treacle from his absentminded staring. “Why doesn’t she know legilimency?! This would be so much easier if she could just  _ see _ that I didn’t mean any ha-” she stopped half way through her words. That was it. If Hermione could only see what had happened then she would understand Narcissa’s motives. She stood up quickly and marched out into the hall. 

She’d seen the damnable thing just the other day when she was snooping around the flat, if only she could think  _ where _ .

“ _ Accio pensieve _ !”

* * *

The moment she sent the message she had that immediate sense of weight in the pit of her stomach that made her want to swallow deeply and have a lie down. She hadn’t been fair, she realised that now, but admitting she was wrong wasn’t something that came naturally to Hermione. The reputation of being a know-it-all was a rarely incorrect one.

After leaving the Department of Mysteries Hermione made her way up to the second floor and through to her and Scriven’s small corner of the floor. She made a bee-line for Scrivens’ office, intending to speak with him about contacting the Border Force, but instead found the warlock himself marching towards her from her open office door.

“Granger!” He growled. “My office, now.”

Hermione blanched and gulped. Scrivens rarely used that tone with her. She had an awful feeling that she was in for a bollocking but she couldn’t think why. Upon entering the office and taking a seat it became clear though as Scrivens shoved a copy of  _ The Daily Prophet _ across the desk at her.

“Explain.” He said bluntly, a scowl darkening his face.

She lifted the paper with heavy hands and took in the headline:

_ Bungling Ministry Department Bugger Bodgwell Business! _

_ A source from inside the Ministry’s Magical Restitution Department confirms that petty crook Derek Bodgwell has fallen off the wagon after apparently being reformed by the department a mere year ago. Our source confirmed that Bodgwell has been implicated in a number of recent incidents involving the injury of Muggles.  _

_ The blundering Department are now investigating a link between Bodgwell and the cursing of a family in an affluent area of Muggle Birmingham. The family were found in freshly dug graves in their back garden, late Tuesday evening, by a Squib neighbour and the authorities were alerted immediately.  _

_ Bodgwell was previously picked up by the Department for minor Muggle-baiting crimes but this recent incident suggests that he has ascended to much darker activities. Could it be that the foolhardy Restitution Department has screwed up so massively that the casual crook has turned Dark? _

_ More on the Ministry of Magic’s latest failings on pages, 3, 17, and 24… _

“Ah.” Hermione said, lowering the paper, slowly feeling the last of the colour drain from her face. “About that…”

Scrivens shifted forward in his chair to lean on the desk. “Please tell me you’re not the source Granger. I thought I could trust you.” Scriven’s voice was low as his eyes showed their disappointment in his favoured deputy.

“You can!” Hermione rushed to say, guilt flooding her as she explained. “It’s just… Rita was threatening to break a much bigger story and I… I’m sorry, I really am, but I couldn’t let her do that! I only told her that Bodgwell was being investigated for incidents in Birmingham, I didn’t tell her we thought there was a Dark witch or wizard behind it, I swear!”

She could almost see Scrivens deflate as she spoke. His face turned from disappointed to concerned and then to exhausted.

“Granger,” he said, settling back in his chair with a huff of a sigh. “Do you know how hard it is for me to keep the wolves at bay here? Small Departments like ours aren’t thought of very highly in some circles of society - no matter how important we know ourselves to be. The very fact that we have the Minister’s backing still rankles some folk. They think the money we get to fund our programmes and investigations is wasted.” He paused for a moment, taking the copy of the  _ Prophet _ from Hermione and looking over the front page once more with a frown. “Stories like this aren’t very helpful to the cause.”

Hermione bowed her head, a mixture of disappointment and shame rising within her. “I’m sorry. I… I just couldn’t give her the story she actually wanted so I had to give her something else.”

Scrivens nodded to himself, hearing just how sorry Hermione was with her tone. 

“She has something on you. Doesn’t she, Granger?" He asked softly. "You know I want to help you. But I can’t do that if I don’t know what it is I’m fighting. What was the story she actually wanted to break?”

Hermione looked up at last with a small sniff but sat straighter in her seat with the knowledge that Scrivens wasn’t as furious as he had first seemed. “It’s all to do with the Restitution Programme, sir. The one I’ve been trying to get Narcissa Black to go on as the first participant.”

“Go on…” Scrivens grumbled, already not sure he liked where this explanation was going.

“In order to gain Ms Black’s trust I felt it necessary to remove some of the wards placed on her home. Kingsley… Wasn’t keen for me to do much in that department so I asked Rita if there might be something on him that I could use for leverage and I’d owe her something in return.”

Scrivens rubbed at his temples and groaned in frustration. “You asked Rita _ fucking  _ Skeeter for help to get one over on the Minister of Magic. Honestly.”

“I know!” Hermione said quickly, stopping Scrivens from launching into a rant. “But Narcissa… She had so clearly been mistreated by the Ministry, I just thought if I showed her some kindness and understanding, maybe a bit of leniency, she would trust me more. Once I had something to persuade Kingsley with I was able to do just that. At the time, well, it seemed worth the risk of going to Rita.”

Scrivens pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration at what he was hearing. “Persuade feels like the wrong word for what you did, Granger. You strongarmed him. I can’t imagine that went down well.”

“I did. You’re right.” She admitted quickly, eager to continue her explanation now that she'd started. “And he wasn’t happy but I stand by what I did because I believe she does trust me now. In fact, I think I’m the first person she’s trusted in years…” Hermione swallowed thickly, trying hard not to think about how she was really testing that trust right now. 

“And then the Dementors swarmed on Black Manor.” She shuddered at the memory of it, her skin growing cold at the mere thought of the Dementors. “Harry sent me a message when he was called out to the Manor and I went to help. Rita only lives on the other side of the hill from the Manor so she must have snuck across there when she felt the Dementors. She must have seen me there and… and that was the story she wanted to break.” 

It was a rather lame ending to her story, even she had to admit. Scrivens seemed to agree, scratching behind his ear as he said “That doesn’t seem like much of a story to break, Granger. The Aurors can summon whoever they please to assist with an incident. You’re hardly the first non-Auror to have attended something like that.”

Hermione twisted her hands in her lap nervously and bit her lip. “I… I didn’t act particularly in character that night. I’m not really sure what came over me to be honest. The Dementors had made their way into the Manor and the Aurors weren’t doing anything productive and then Ron announced that he’d put a dampener on the estate…” She shook her head. “I just snapped. She was in there alone with at least forty or fifty of those foul things and she couldn’t defend herself!”

“Ah.” Scrivens said with a sigh. “I see.” He heaved himself out of his chair and took a slow walk around the desk until he was standing in front of Hermione. With Hermione sitting down they were roughly at the same level and it gave him an opportunity to take in all the lines, scars, and shadows on her face. He gave her a quick but kindly smile, causing his own face to crinkle in on itself briefly. 

“Rita thinks there’s something odd going on between you two, I take it?”

Hermione nodded, feeling her eyes begin to glisten at Scriven’s understanding. “She does. I didn’t want her putting that out there. I shouldn’t have given her the scoop on Bodgwell but I panicked!”

“Granger.” Scrivens said slowly, leaning his back against the desk and staring at the wall opposite. “If anything were going on between you and Lady Black… Well, I’d hope you'd have the confidence to tell me.”

Hermione swiped at her eyes quickly to stop the tears from breaking free. This whole conversation had gone a lot differently than she had expected it to. She’d anticipated Scriven’s anger at the  _ Prophet _ article but not his kindness upon hearing her explanation. Not for the first time, she found herself immensely grateful that she had landed Scrivens as her boss. 

“Thank you. But there’s nothing going on, I promise. Though I should probably tell you… Narcissa is currently living with me.”

The old warlock raised an eyebrow but gestured for her to continue. 

“It’s just a temporary matter.” Hermione rushed to add. “Just until DoM get a chance to look at the wards on her Manor. The Dementor attack really did a number on them.”

Scrivens nodded and pushed himself off the desk with a grunt. “That’ll be why Kingsley is going about with a face like sour unicorn milk then? Figures. Well,” he scratched at the back of his head absentmindedly. “Guess we’ve got some damage control to do then. Can you get DoM up here today? If they can crack Bodgwell’s memories then we might have a hope of defending ourselves in the evening edition.” He gestured at the copy of  _ The Prophet _ .

Hermione stood. “I’ve already got Luna on the case. She says she’ll be up shortly. In the meantime, I’ve had some inspiration on the Bodgwell front.”

“Oh?” Scrivens replied curiously, moving back around to his side of the desk. 

“I’m going to get in touch with a contact at the Border Force. Bodgwell’s last full set of memories are from his holiday, right? We’ve not had any luck finding a moment back in Britain where he might have been intercepted so it would make sense that something happened on his way back.”

Scrivens nodded. “Makes sense. Do that and see what you can find out. And send Lovegood in here when she gets up, will you?”

* * *

Three hours later Narcissa was startled from her impromptu slumber by a soft  _ pop _ followed by several loud barks. Had it not been for a quickly thrown out arm she would have tumbled out of the arm chair from the force of her body’s involuntary jump at the sudden noise.

“Hermione!” she exclaimed huskily, rushing to stand up as Hermione walked through the door with an armful of bags and a bouncing beagle at her feet. 

She watched as Hermione walked through the archway to the kitchen and deposited the bags on the counter and began to put the items away. When she was done, Hermione paused for a second before turning round to face Narcissa at last. For once Narcissa wasn’t her usual put-together self. She had changed from her pyjamas but only into a loose fitting pair of slacks and an olive coloured blouse that hung off her shoulders at an odd angle from her unintended armchair nap. Her hair was swept up into a loose ponytail with stray hairs sticking out in parts. But what Hermione noticed most was how pale and tired the woman looked. It made her heart sink, the feeling of guilt increasing as she realised just how exhausted and worried Narcissa must have been waiting for her to return.

“I’m sorry!” they both blurted out at the same time, neither able to bear the silence between the two of them any longer. Narcissa walked towards Hermione with slow, uncertain steps, her right hand reaching for Hermione’s left arm automatically. Hermione flinched at the movement and quickly backed up until she had her back against the kitchen sink. She thought she’d been prepared for this talk but something about being close to Narcissa was setting her nerves aflame.

It was then that Narcissa did something completely unexpected. She let her arm fall, and crouched to the floor. From her sleeve she pulled a thin hawthorn wand and placed it at Hermione’s feet before standing up and taking several steps back to give Hermione the space she needed.

“I have not, now or ever, any intention to harm you, Hermione.” she gestured to the wand on the floor. “I’m surrendering my wand to you whilst I live in your home.”

Hermione stared between the wand and Narcissa herself. It was one hell of a gesture, that was for sure. But still she found herself picking up the wand and walking the short distance to Narcissa to hand it back.

“That’s not what I need you to do.” She said simply, continuing into the living room and sitting on the edge of the sofa. “I need you to listen to me.” She sucked in a deep breath and waited for Narcissa to join her. Once Narcissa had taken an equally precarious perch on the arm of the armchair she began.

“I over-reacted this morning.” She rolled up the sleeve of her jumper once more to unveil the shiny scar beneath. “I panicked. I couldn’t remember anything about the night and I let memories of the war cloud my judgement. I didn’t give you the chance to explain why you did what you did. And…” Hermione raised her head to meet Narcissa’s gaze. “That wasn’t fair of me, Narcissa. I’m sorry.”

Narcissa opened her mouth to reply but Hermione held up a hand. “Please let me finish.” she said, firmly but not unkindly. “I panicked because I thought you had managed to break my wards. I was feeling vulnerable. It wasn’t until I spoke with Luna that I realised the wards remained intact and that you hadn’t done anything wrong. If you had truly meant to hurt me you would never have been able to cast the Imperious Curse.” She let out a sigh and sagged, like a great weight had suddenly been lifted by getting those words out at last.

“I trust you, Narcissa.”

Narcissa found herself blinking rather a lot at that, caught off-guard by Hermione’s logical dissection of her own feelings, laid bare for Narcissa to view.

"You trust me?" She asked, dumbfounded, slumping back into the armchair with an arm dramatically thrown over her eyes. "I thought I was going to have beg you for your forgiveness! I spent the entire afternoon lifting memories into your pensieve so you could see my side of the story." She waved her hand at the table where Hermione's small pensieve lay alongside a startling array of silver filled vials. "Hell, I even got Treacle to sit long enough to give me  _ his _ memories of the night!"

Hermione's mouth hung open in shock. "You got… how do you even get a dog's memories?!"

"With difficulty." Narcissa replied tensely, removing her arm from her face and turning her wand over in her hands. "He thought my wand was a chew toy at first." 

Hermione tried and failed to stifle her laughter, knowing full well Treacle’s tendency to chew on things that definitely shouldn’t be chewed. She pulled her own ebony wand from its holster and showed it to Narcissa, turning it so the witch could see the many scuffs, dents and chips to the wood from Treacle’s teeth.

Narcissa turned to the dog in question and said “Okay, so you  _ did _ chew on Hermione’s wand too but I still maintain you were not  _ allowed _ to do it.” She turned back to Hermione, who was now stifling a snigger with her fist at her mouth. “Honestly, between you and your hound, the last twenty four hours has been very stressful.” Narcissa said almost teasingly with a tired smile, sinking deeper into the armchair. 

Hermione’s laughter faded as she took in just how exhausted Narcissa looked in that moment. “I’m sorry about that. Really.” she added when Narcissa tried to wave away her apology. “You worried and worked all day. You must be shattered! I can make us some dinner and then you can get an early night?”

Narcissa’s eyes, which had been drifting closed, snapped open at Hermione’s suggestion. “No, I can’t do that.” Her voice suddenly alert and serious again.

“I’m okay now, I promise!” Hermione tried to say in a lighthearted tone but Narcissa would have none of it. She stood quickly and crossed the small gap between her armchair and the table that sat between them. Her hands worked quickly, unstopping the first of the vials and pouring the silvery liquid into the stone bowl on the table.

“You may feel okay at the moment but I assure you that come tonight that may not be the case.” She brought the bowl to Hermione on the sofa and placed it in her lap. “Hermione, I need you to understand how serious the curse on your scar is. You may think it’s just a nightmare and the wound reopening a bit but it’s far worse than that. Watch, please.”

Hermione could hear the sincere worry in Narcissa’s voice and saw it etched across her face too. In such close proximity she could see the dark shadows under her sparkling blue eyes and the creases of a frown forming between her brows. For a moment all she could think of was how she dearly longed to erase all trace of worry from Narcissa’s face. She shook her head slightly as though to shake the thoughts from her head and directed her attention at the shimmering memory in the pensieve below. With a deep breath she plunged herself forward.

* * *

She had expected the memory to feel cold but upon landing in the dimly lit bedroom she found herself feeling like she was wrapped in a warm blanket, the kind of warmth that comes from being safely ensconced in the depths of sleep. A slither of light crept under the door, providing just enough light for her to make out the faint outline of the bed and Narcissa’s form beneath the duvet. Her breathing was slow and even, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. It was oddly soothing to watch, Hermione thought as she approached the bed. Narcissa had her right arm thrown above her head in a dramatic arc, her golden hair splayed out in far too elegant a fashion for it to have been an accident.  _ What kind of spell does she use to do that? It’s not fair that she always looks so damn beautiful, even when she’s asleep. _

Before she could take the image in any further, Narcissa's whole body seemed to jump from the mattress, her eyes snapping open and scanning the dark room for any sign of danger. Piercing blue eyes, noticeable even in the dim light, stared right through Hermione. After a moment or so of staring into the dark Narcissa seemed to decide on going back to sleep and was mid-way through a roll when a crash followed by Treacle’s deep rumbling growl came from the living room. Narcissa moved with lightning speed, wand in hand and rushing silently to the door before Hermione had even thought to stand. She followed the blonde witch out into the hall to see her performing a whispered “ _ Homenum Revilio! _ ”. When the spell identified only the two of them, Narcissa proceeded into the living room only to be hastened towards Hermione’s pale body by Treacle.

Hermione had never seen herself look so awful. Her skin was so pale and clammy looking she might have been on death's door itself. Sweat shimmered on her forehead and she could see how her clothes clung to her body as though soaked through. Her hair, normally bushy, instead lay plastered to her head, limp and lifeless looking.

Narcissa was kneeling before Hermione now and the way Narcissa gently moved a stray strand of hair from the unconscious Hermione’s head made the present Hermione shiver with something she couldn’t quite identify. The action was so careful and sweet it reminded her of the very beginnings of her dream that night. She was glad that neither Narcissa, the one in front of her now and the one waiting for her back in the living room, could see the warmth flooding her face at the thought.

“Hermione?” the blonde asked with concern. Treacle nudged at the blonde again, urging her to examine Hermione’s arm.

The scar was a violent crimson, the slur bleeding as though newly carved. Hermione clutched at her own arm and gave a small gasp. She’d had no idea it could look this bad. She had only ever woken up to the aftermath of her nightmares, by which time the scar had usually begun to heal itself.

Narcissa’s muttered “Bella…” drew her attention back to the blonde who had now drawn her wand and was levitating Hermione’s body and shifting herself behind the unconscious body. The way Narcissa pulled Hermione to her, delicately resting her chin on Hermione’s shoulder as she wrapped her arms around the witch, would have looked intimate had it not been for the still bleeding wound on Hermione’s arm. The pair stayed like that for a number of minutes, Narcissa’s face returning to a serene calm that soothed Hermione even now as she watched on from the doorway.

After what felt like an hour or more, though it couldn’t have been more than five minutes, Narcissa’s concerned voice broke the silence. “Hermione… I’m sorry, but I need to do this…  _ Imperio! _ ”

Watching herself follow instructions so readily was bizarre. It wasn’t like the eager to please Hermione of her school days. This Hermione seemed to accept most commands without question, only occasionally pausing with what seemed to be a flicker of another Hermione behind the eyes. When Narcissa began working on Hermione’s scar she could see the pain in her own eyes but the imperio'd Hermione didn't move, just as she was instructed. 

Soon, a dark smoke began to rise from the imperio'd Hermione's arm, Narcissa’s wand siphoning it away before it could drift further into the room. Hermione edged closer, forgetting for a moment that she couldn't disturb anything in the memory, and observed her skin knitting itself slowly back together under Narcissa's watchful gaze. The care with which Narcissa worked was evident by her gentle movements and apologetic looks all through the process. Hermione couldn't help but feel further guilt for her actions that morning. Narcissa had done nothing but look after her, care for her, and Hermione had repaid that by running off.

As Narcissa guided her charge through to the bedroom Hermione could sense her own reluctance to follow Narcissa’s instructions increase. The flickers behind the eyes became more frequent and she could almost feel Narcissa having to increase the power of her spell to keep her compliant enough to allow Narcissa to undress her. Even now, merely watching the proceedings, Hermione felt reluctance. Seeing Narcissa slid her hands over her back made Hermione's skin tingle, the hairs on her arms raising.

"I'm going to stay with you. I can keep the nightmares at bay for tonight but it works better if we have physical contact. We can work on a better solution in the morning.” 

* * *

"I have other memories from every hour of the night." Narcissa said quietly, sat next to her on the sofa now. She had her head in her hands, fingers disappearing up into her hair. "I tried to keep my Occlumency up the whole night but there were occasions where I slipped and your scar activated again." She waved a hand at the other vials on the table, still avoiding Hermione’s gaze. "Every time it happened is there for you. None as bad as the first but still. They're there for you to see. I won't hide anything from you, Hermione." She sighed and sat back on the sofa, sweeping her ponytail elegantly over her shoulder as she did so.

Hermione wasn't really sure what to say. It seemed like every conversation she had today wasn't going the way she had thought it would. This one was no exception. 

"All night?" She eventually said. "You Occluded for me all night?"

Narcissa nodded. "It's the only way to keep Bella’s magic at bay. I can do it for you whilst we live together and I can try my best to remove her magic from your scar in the meantime. But after that it really would be better for you to learn how to defend your mind yourself. I know I was going to teach you for your case but this is far more serious a reason to do so."

Hermione reached for Narcissa’s hand, marvelling at the warmth she felt when Narcissa should surely have been cold from exhaustion. "Thank you, Narcissa. You're right. This is something I need to learn as soon as possible. I can't have you draining yourself every night trying to Occlude for me."

Narcissa squeezed Hermione’s hand in return, turning to look at her properly. Blue eyes locking with brown she said solemnly, "If it meant I kept you safe from the evil of my sister I would do it every night for the rest of my life."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed this chapter please leave a comment, I love to hear from you all. If you didn't enjoy it please also leave me a comment and I will arrange to come apologise to you in person.
> 
> If you're amazed I posted at all, go thank Yanana for harassing me on a near daily basis to get this written. (Side note - Yanana also writes cissamione and it's bloody glorious, go read it!)
> 
> I'll hopefully be back soon with the next chapter for you. Until then, keep being awesome!


	15. Occlumency

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? I've updated this story and it didn't take me a month this time? Madness...
> 
> I'm not going to say anything more here other than I think you're all wonderful for sticking with this and my irregular updates.
> 
> Enjoy...
> 
> Bet_on_Black

The ease with which the two witches fell into domesticity together was something neither of them could have predicted all those months ago. Every morning Hermione would wake early in Narcissa’s arms, a strange tingling sensation dancing across her skin as she slid carefully from the bed. She'd get dressed in the bathroom, still far too shy to undress in front of Narcissa (though Narcissa felt no such emotion it seemed) and then make herself and Narcissa a cup of coffee before heading into the office. Throughout the day the pair would communicate through their contact Galleons to check the other was doing well and then Hermione would return home. More often than not she would come back to an excitable Treacle and heavenly smells coming from the kitchen. Narcissa, it seemed, had taken it upon herself to ensure Hermione ate properly after discovering Hermione’s alarming stash of takeout menus stuffed roughly in a kitchen drawer. They'd eat, spend some time working on either Occlumency or Patronuses and then go to bed together.

The first night of this happening Hermione had stood in the bedroom in comfortable checked pyjamas only to find Narcissa eyeing her outfit and shaking her head.

_"I'm afraid that won't do, Hermione. I can't work with this." She gestured at the full length pyjama trousers and long-sleeved top Hermione was wearing with a look of amusement._

_"What's wrong with this?!" Hermione had asked in a panicked voice, wondering if she had mistakenly put on a pair with a giant hole in the crotch or something._

_"A giant hole in your outfit would only improve it, I can assure you." Narcissa had replied coolly to Hermione's unspoken thought with a small smirk._

_This only made Hermione blush furiously and retort, "Narcissa! That's not fair, you said you wouldn't listen to my thoughts!"_

_The blonde stalked towards her and placed her hands on either side of Hermione’s head, pulling her head forward until their foreheads touched. Their eyes locked, Hermione's wide with panic and Narcissa’s seeming to shimmer with mirth._

Stop thinking so loudly then _._

_Hermione took a step back out of Narcissa’s reach and crossed her arms huffing whilst Narcissa smirked on. "What would you propose instead then, oh wise fashionista?"_

_Narcissa sat down on the bed, elegantly folding her mostly bare legs up until she was crossed legged on the sheets, considering Hermione with a roving blue gaze. "Hmm…" she said, slowly tapping her index finger against her lips, drawing the moment out as Hermione squirmed. "I suppose, theoretically speaking, the best option would be nothing at all…"_

_"Narcissa!" Hermione squeaked indignantly, the heat from her cheeks suddenly dropping down much lower in her body._

_Narcissa laughed lightly to herself, secretly just a little bit pleased at how muddled Hermione’s thoughts got when she teased her. "But I can see that that would cause you some level of discomfort so perhaps this" she flicked her wand at Hermione’s outfit to shorten the arms and legs of the garment. "Would be more appropriate."_

_Hermione looked down at her pyjamas to see that Narcissa had effectively given her checked short-shorts that covered just enough and no more, as well as a vest top. Given that she had basically lived her life in jumpers and comfortable skirts and trousers this was one hell of a departure. "You can't be serious!" She whined at the blonde witch on her bed. "Why can't I wear my normal pyjamas?!"_

_Narcissa smiled and beckoned Hermione to join her, casting to lengthen her shorts and give her top some short sleeves on the way. "Compromise?" She offered sweetly to the younger witch before explaining. "I need as much skin to skin contact as possible, I’m afraid.” she said apologetically. “I can do it without but it makes the whole experience much easier for both of us.”_

_Hermione nodded, seeing the logic behind what Narcissa said. “It must be quite mentally taxing for you… Is there anything I can do to make it less so or help with the recovery?”_

_“You never stop problem solving in that head of yours, do you?”_

That had been less than a week ago and Hermione was already finding that waking up in Narcissa’s arms was one of the best ways to wake up. Her sleep had become much more even and her dreams lighter, more pleasant affairs. Some of them, she noted, didn’t quite seem to be her own. They featured people Hermione thought she might have seen in passing either in the Ministry or Diagon Alley. A part of her wondered if these people were drifting across from Narcissa’s own dreams into her own. Was that something that could happen? She made a note to consult with Luna. Luna was the kind of person who would know, surely.

Waking up that morning Hermione took a moment before opening her eyes to appreciate the cocoon of warmth that Narcissa’s embrace provided. As usual, Narcissa had her arm slung loosely around Hermione’s waist, fingers splayed out over the skin of Hermione’s stomach where her top had ridden up. Her legs were drawn up behind Hermione’s own, one leg having managed to slide between her knees during the night at some point. Narcissa’s face rested against Hermione’s shoulder, her soft breath ghosting over the skin as the blonde witch slept on. As Hermione opened her eyes it occurred to her how peculiar this would look if anyone should walk in on them right now. The former Malfoy Matriarch snuggled up with Gryffindor’s Golden Girl, apparently spooning her. Hermione let loose a low chuckle at the thought, trying her best to keep it from becoming a belly laugh. _What a thought! Narcissa Black, the big spoon to Hermione Granger._

“If you’d rather be the big spoon, that can be arranged.” Narcissa’s voice came groggily from behind her.

“‘Cissa!” Hermione squealed, twisting round in the bed to address the witch. “What happened to not listening to my thoughts?!”

The blonde witch was bleary eyed but smiling faintly, her hair slightly muzzed from sleep. “Can I help it that you were basically thinking that _inside_ my mind as I slept? No. So this is your own fault, Hermione Granger.”

“You’re insufferable, Narcissa Black.” Hermione shot back playfully, rolling back over to get out of bed only to be stopped by a firm hand at her waist. She turned back around to find herself a mere inch from Narcissa’s face.

_Whilst I’m being insufferable... I’ll have some toast with my coffee this morning. Jam, not butter though, dear._

* * *

Luna was waiting for her in her office when she got in. Stretched out on the small sofa in the corner with a purple pygmy puff happily rolling about on her chest, Luna gave Hermione a cheerful wave accompanied by a “Morning ‘Mione”. She sat up slowly, making sure to cup the small ball of fluff as she did so, swinging her legs off the couch.

“Luna!” Hermione greeted her friend with surprise. “What brings you to the second floor this early?”

“We think we’re close to cracking your Bodgwell case so I thought we could give it one last push with the big guns today.” Luna held out the pygmy puff which bounced excitedly in her palms.

“A-Arnold? Arnold is ‘the big guns’?” 

“Mhmm.” Luna nodded. “Why do you think Ginny was so feared in school? It wasn’t just the bat bogey hexes. Arnold can be a terrifying soul when he wants to be.”

“O-kay…” Hermione said slowly, choosing not to question Luna further on the Arnold-front for the moment. “And you had to wait in my office, why? I mean, it’s not that I don’t love seeing you Luna, but you have access to Bodgwell whenever you want.”

The blonde witch moved Arnold to her shoulder and perched herself on the edge of Hermione’s desk.

“I wanted to see you, of course!” she replied merrily, swinging her legs back and forth. “We’ve not really had the chance to speak outside of work terms since you were last in my office. I thought I’d see how your roommate situation was going.”

“Oh.” Hermione had almost forgotten her near breakdown in Luna’s office, a testament to how well rested she was now that Narcissa was Occluding for her every night. “It’s going… Well. It’s going well actually. You were right, as usual. I didn’t give her a chance to explain before but now that I have we’re back on good terms.” 

_If you can call sleeping with her merely ‘good terms.’_

“Good! Because Ginny and I were thinking we’d come round later this week for a visit. Neither of us has really seen you for weeks now, ‘Mione!”

“Oh.” This time her reply came out in a much higher pitch than she had meant, a little knot of panic forming in the pit of her stomach. “I, uh, I might have to check with Cis- I mean, Narcissa. But I’m sure we, I, could do that. It would be nice to see you both outside of work.”

Luna beamed at her. “Excellent! Ginny has been _dying_ to come see you!”

The knot in Hermione’s stomach tightened. She had no doubt that Ginny was desperate to find an excuse to come round and had informed Luna of such. Ginny knew fine well that Hermione had difficulty saying no to Luna even these days. She shook her head, now wasn’t the time to focus on either of the blonde witches in her life. Her hand was already on the contact Galleon in her pocket though with the intent to message Narcissa as soon as Luna left the office.

* * *

When she entered the flat that night she was greeted with the heavenly smell of Narcissa’s cooking and had to suppress a groan of delight. There was something incredibly comforting about coming home to a freshly cooked meal. Especially when it was served with a soft smile from an attractive blonde witch.

“That smells amazing!” she called to Narcissa from the hallway. “What’s on the menu tonight?”

“A beef ragu if your hound ever stops giving me his puppy dog eyes for some of the beef.” Narcissa’s amused voice came from the kitchen, accompanied by the contented sound of Treacle settling into a bowl of food that was really much too good for a dog. Evidently Narcissa had developed quite the soft spot for the beagle.

Hermione hung her jacket up on the hook by the door, slipped off her shoes and made her way to their bedroom to change out of her ministry robes. She was halfway into a pair of comfortable sweatpants, hopping round on the spot still to put a top on, when Narcissa appeared in front of her with a wooden spoon in hand. She stilled Hermione’s hopping and slipped the spoon into her open mouth effortlessly with a casual “Taste this for me, dear.”

Whether it was because Narcissa had appeared so suddenly or the fact that her hand was alarmingly close to Hermione’s bra she didn’t know but Hermione was altogether taken by surprise. She didn’t have the wherewithal to stop the appreciative moan that left her lips along with the spoon. It must have taken Narcissa by surprise too as her cheeks developed a slight pink hue and she quickly moved her hand to Hermione’s arm instead.

“Good?” she asked rather breathlessly, suddenly very interested in the wallpaper behind Hermione’s head.

“Divine!” Hermione replied, hastily shoving her other leg into the sweatpants; trying hard to ignore the tingling sensation dancing across her skin again. “Could you, um, Cissa, could you pass me my t-shirt? You’re kind of standing on it.”

“Oh!” Narcissa exclaimed, taking an exaggerated step back and bending down to pick up the vest top Hermione had directed her to. She held it out to the younger witch, who took it gratefully and pulled it over her head. “Are you planning on working out?” Narcissa enquired, eyeing up the strangely casual outfit Hermione had chosen.

Hermione glanced down at her clothing, as though she’d forgotten for a moment what she was wearing. “Am I-? Oh this, no. I thought we might be working on patronuses tonight so thought an outfit with a bit more movement in it might be helpful.” 

“I see.” Narcissa replied, still not quite meeting Hermione’s eye. “Should I do likewise? I’m not sure I have anything that quite fits the same bill but I’m sure I could make do…”

* * *

For all Narcissa’s protesting about not having a similar outfit she certainly managed to ‘make do’. After dinner she had excused herself to the bedroom and returned a few minutes later in form fitting dragon-hide trousers and an open shoulder lace up top that clung to her like a second skin.

“That’s your version of casual and easy to move in?” Hermione asked in awe of the vision in front of her. 

“I think you’ll find I can be _athletic_ in any outfit if I try” Narcissa teased lightly before adding “Close your mouth dear, you’ll catch flies like that.” Her hand brushed Hermione’s chin softly and pushed it shut for her. 

It took Hermione a moment or two to realise Narcissa’s hand had not left her chin, such was the fire coursing through her nerves. She took a step back and fiddled with the draw strings of her grey zip up hood for a second. "Will you be warm enough like that?" She asked, still averting her gaze.

"Are we to go outside for this little endeavour of yours?"

"Uh huh, for a bit at least. Until we get there." Hermione replied, now crouching down to tie the laces of her trainers. "I thought it would be a bit more interesting to do things this way." She looked up, only to find that her view was even more distracting from this angle as she was now looking up at Narcissa's tightly clad calves and thighs. Her mouth went dry all of a sudden, meaning it took a few attempts to get her next words out. "It's uh… It’s something Harry, uhm, suggested. To break the monotony of theory. He- I - _we_ , figured you might be more into the practical side of things."

Narcissa offered her a hand up, which she took gratefully, even though her skin grew embarrassingly warm at the touch. At least if she was at the same level she might have a hope of forgetting about Narcissa’s legs for a second. 

"Mmm…" Narcissa considered, looping her hair up into a bun atop her head. "I could definitely do with a more physical approach to things." She walked towards the hallway before calling back "Where are we headed?"

* * *

"Hogwarts." The blonde smiled tentatively, a wary shadow to her gaze. "However did you convince her?"

"The Headmistress and I have been working on a number of things together since I left. I kind of have a standing invite to the school so I thought here would be as good a place as any to practice. It's where I learned after all."

The two witches were walking up the long sloping drive towards the castle in the orange glow of dusk, arms still looped from their apparating. Something about being back on the castle grounds make the magic inside them both thrum with joy. Despite all that had happened here, the darkness that had befallen the castle during the war, it still felt like home to Hermione. For Narcissa, things were slightly different. Hogwarts had always been a bit of a mixed bag for her, some of her best memories with her sisters were here. But some of her worst memories lingered on too. This was the place where she had very nearly lost her son. Over in the distance, where the trees melded into the horizon, was where she had forced herself to lie to the Dark Lord and save the Potter boy's life. And here, right where the newly lain cobbles they were walking on stood, this is where her life had changed once and for all. 

She shuddered faintly as they crossed the courtyard, Hermione automatically pulling the witch closer to her with the arm still looped with Narcissa’s. Somehow, being here with Hermione, it didn't feel quite so overwhelming as it should have. The grand doors of the castle swung open and the tall frame of Professor McGonagall could be seen walking towards them across the large entrance hall.

"Good evening Ms Granger, Madam Black." She greeted with a nod to them both. "A pleasure as always to have two of my finest students return. Yes, even you Narcissa." She said with a thin smile. "You were a fine student who simply, how shall I phrase it? Lost her way?"

Narcissa dropped her gaze. Even now, though it was nearing 30 years since she'd finished her schooling, Minerva could make her feel like a naughty school girl caught in the act of breaking a rule or two. "You're very kind to phrase it in such a way, Professor." She replied in a quiet, un-Narcissa like tone. "Thank you for allowing us to visit this evening."

Minerva waved away the comment, muttering something about letting bygones be bygones. "I trust you remember the way, Ms Granger?" She added to the brunette witch at Narcissa’s side.

"Of course, Professor!" Hermione replied, practically bouncing on her heels, reminding Narcissa so much of the excitable Hermione who had come to her home all those months ago. "It's not likely I'd forget."

"Very well, the castle is yours Ms Granger." And with that the Headmistress continued on her rounds of the castle.

Hermione slid her arm from Narcissa’s, choosing instead to take the blonde by the hand, and began walking them to the staircase.

"Where are we going?" Narcissa enquired in a daze, wondering just when holding hands with Hermione had become the norm.

"You'll see!" Hermione said with glee, racing up the stairs two at a time practically dragging Narcissa with her.

Several staircases, secret passageways and snickering portraits later they arrived at their destination on the seventh floor of the castle. Only then did Hermione release Narcissa’s hand so that she could walk past a blank stretch of wall three times, her face screwed up in concentration. Upon her third pass a large, somewhat blackened door materialised from the wall. Narcissa, though she had encountered the Room of Requirement before, stifled a gasp. There was something about the room appearing only when one needed it that always filled Narcissa with wonder. 

Hermione walked back towards her with her hand outstretched. "Shall we?" Narcissa nodded and took the proffered hand with a smile, allowing the young with to draw her into the awaiting room.

Inside the room had made itself into some kind of gymnasium, a wide hall with a number of different objects scattered across the floors and even some on the walls. It looked every bit like an obstacle course. Hermione had walked into the centre of the room, stepping over a footstool to stand by an ancient looking cabinet. She turned to Narcissa with a wide beam and spread her arms out, "What do you think?"

"I have the horrible feeling I might be about to be subjected to something akin to 'physical education'." She said ruefully, picking her way across the room. "I thought we were working on patronuses this evening?"

"We are. I just thought you might need something a bit more distracting to help you."

"Hermione, dear, that makes absolutely no sense."

There was that smile again, the one that brought amber eyes alight with glee and revealed gleaming white teeth. "You've been focusing too much on the theory. It's stunting your casting. If you're distracted then you can't think on that so much and you might just do it."

Narcissa had made her way across the room to Hermione now and had to stop her imagination running away with the notion of any number of distractions Ms Granger might provide. _What a peculiar set of thoughts to have entered her head…_ "And how, pray tell, am I to be distracted?" 

"Well, I thought we could have a duel of sorts." Hermione said, shrugging out of her hoody and draping it across the footstool. "Only instead of offensive spells I want you to cast a patronus. You can still use defensive spells to shield yourself but I want you to use your patronus to attack."

"And what spells do you get to use?" Narcissa enquired with a raised eyebrow as Hermione walked behind her.

"Oh, nothing wild, just mild stinging hexes…" her voice drifted back followed swiftly by a faint sting on Narcissa’s backside. Thank goodness she was wearing dragon-hide, that might have hurt otherwise, Narcissa thought with a grin. Perhaps this would be fun after all...

The pair made their way to opposite ends of the room, just able to see each other between the various obstacles the room had chosen to give them. 

“Are you ready?” Hermione called.

“I’m never not ready. Do your worst, Granger!” Narcissa shouted back, sounding every bit like her son for a second, settling into a dueling stance with her wand up in front of her smirking face.

A loud canon blast echoed around the room, shaking the stones at their very feet and then they were off. Narcissa immediately dived into a tumbling roll, proving her athleticism from the get go, to take shelter behind a bookcase as Hermione fired her first volley of stinging hexes across the room. Narcissa felt the spells ricochet off the bookcase at her back as a series of sizzling thuds. She poked her head out and produced a silvery mist which absorbed Hermione’s next set of spells, dissipating them until they did nothing more but tickle Narcissa’s arm.

The blonde witch took a deep breath before her next move, making sure to throw up a shield as she sprinted across a wide expanse of empty room to reach her next defensive position of choice, a tall statue of a wizard holding a book aloft. As she ran she spotted Hermione out of the corner of her eye, apparently climbing something whilst still firing jinxes at her.

Once behind the statue of the wizard Narcissa took a moment to summon a happy thought for her next attempt at a patronus. _The joy she had felt upon seeing Draco at the divorce hearing_ . She whirled out from behind the statue, narrowly avoiding a hex Hermione had just hurled at her from atop a wardrobe, and cried “ _Expecto Patronum!_ ” This time there was a very brief moment where she swore she could have seen the beginnings of _something_ before the silver being dispersed into a thick mist. 

So taken aback was she that she stood out in the open for a moment too long and received a stinging hex to her shoulder. She twisted back with the force of the spell and made another dive, this time sliding across the floor on her knees to shelter behind a messy stack of chairs. From across the room she could hear Hermione’s joyous laughter. Narcissa grinned to herself, if it was laughter she was after then she would give the young witch something to laugh at. A whispered “ _Point me!_ ” gave Narcissa an idea where Hermione was in the room. The witch appeared to be using taller items in the room to give her a vantage point over their makeshift arena. “Very well.” Narcissa muttered to herself. “If she’s going high, I’m going low...”

Hermione fired off a few more hexes at the stack of chairs where she’d last seen Narcissa’s blonde form disappear. She was expecting the witch to reappear on the other side any moment now. When she didn’t appear Hermione decided to move to higher ground still and began clambering her way from the top of the wardrobe to the nearby ancient cabinet. It swayed as she climbed atop it so that she had to work extra hard keeping her balance until it settled. This was the highest point in the room so logically speaking she should have been able to see Narcissa no matter where she was hiding and yet… the room appeared entirely Narcissa-less.

“Cissa?” she called, a small hint of panic creeping into her voice. “Cissa?!”

The cabinet shook beneath her again, causing her to look down and see a grinning Narcissa beaming up at her. “ _Expecto Patronum!_ ”

A silver dog burst forth from Narcissa’s wand, complete with lolling tongue and wagging tail, racing upwards towards Hermione. She stumbled backwards as the dog approached, hearing an ominous creak before the wood splintered beneath her and she fell through the cabinet. Her fall was broken by a rushed cushioning charm and a set of familiar arms wrapping around her. Narcissa had realised her mistake as soon as the Beagle patronus had left her wand, rushing to slide under the decrepit cabinet and cast a cushioning charm. Hermione landed on her with an “Ooomf!”, both witches having the air knocked from their lungs.

As the dust cleared Hermione saw that she had landed on top of the blonde witch and tried to move off, only to be held in place by Narcissa’s hands. “Are you okay?” she asked quietly, eyes filled with concern. “I’m sorry! I should have known that was a stupid idea!”

Hermione stilled Narcissa’s panicked apology with a finger to her lips. “Shh… Your lip’s bleeding.” she murmured, drawing her thumb slowly over Narcissa’s bottom lip to wipe the blood away. 

Narcissa stayed perfectly still, hyper aware of Hermione’s touch not just on her lip but elsewhere too. Their legs were entwined from Hermione’s fall, her arms, still wrapped around Hermione’s waist and hips. It felt like her very core was sparking with electricity. After a long silence she found her voice and croaked, “I think I’ll live, don’t you?”

“Yeah…” Hermione breathed, face still hovering over Narcissa’s. Her brain was fogging over, something about her proximity to the other witch causing all logical thought to disappear from her mind. Narcissa’s hand was in her hair, softly carding through it, her mouth was moving, saying something that Hermione couldn’t comprehend. _Had Narcissa always looked so beautiful? Of course she had, what a stupid thought._

“Hermione.” Narcissa said, louder this time, seeing that Hermione’s eyes had glossed over. “Are you okay? You never answered me.”

The brunette blinked a couple of times, seeming to come back out of her daze. “What? Oh yes, I’m fine. Sorry, I’m kind of lying on top of you, aren’t I?” she said with a nervous laugh.

Narcissa smiled. “I’m glad you’re okay. That could have been quite the painful fall.”

Hermione got to her feet, pulling Narcissa up with her and gave the witch a wide grin. “It was so worth it to see that patronus though! Can you do it again for me? I want to see it properly.”

Narcissa fingered her wand nervously. “I can try.” 

“Just think of whatever it was you were thinking last time.” Hermione offered with another one of her bright smiles.

_Well that won’t be hard. You’re standing right in front of me._

Narcissa lifted her wand, this time pointing it away from Hermione into an open section of the room and cast “ _Expecto Patronum!_ ”

A shining beagle bounced forth from Narcissa’s wand, ears flopping happily as it raced across the room, nose to the ground, and then returned to them. It looked remarkably familiar and it wasn’t until Hermione started giggling that Narcissa realised why.

“Oh Merlin’s pants!” Hermione wheezed, gripping her side, tears of laughter flowing merrily down her face. “Narcissa this is fantastic! Your patronus is _Treacle_!”

“I - I - Damm that dog! He is _not_ my patronus! _Expecto Patronum!_ **_Expecto Patronum!_ **” Narcissa cast again, bringing more silver Treacles to life, each of them bounding about happily in the room, acting very much like the dog in question. Narcissa crossed her arms in a huff but her lips still quirked up at the corners.

“Oh Narcissa.” Hermione leant in to the witch, enveloping her in a side hug that had Narcissa’s smile blooming fully. “I think it’s _adorable_.”

* * *

“Clear your mind of all conscious thought.” Narcissa said etherally, sounding like a more serene version of Professor Trelawney. Hermione giggled at the thought, earning her a glare from the blonde witch. “Thoughts of me in ridiculous shawls does _not_ count as clearing your mind, Ms Granger.”

“Sorry _Professor_.” she replied with another peal of laughter.

Narcissa walked up behind her, placed her hands on Hermione’s shoulders and leant in to speak directly in Hermione’s ear. “Were you this disobedient at Hogwarts? I was always told you were a teacher’s pet but the evidence is telling me otherwise.”

She said the words so quietly Hermione had to concentrate extra hard to hear them, far too easily distracted by the feel of Narcissa’s hands on her shoulder and her breath at her ear. It almost felt like her senses were being overloaded. She shivered involuntarily.

"Perhaps you're the one that needs bundled up in shawls, the way you're acting." Narcissa said teasingly, drawing back from Hermione to resume her pacing. 

"No, no. I'm fine." Hermione said quickly.

"Then if you're not too distracted perhaps you might want to try clearing your mind?"

_The chance would be a fine thing. You're all I can bloody think about since the Room of Requirement!_ Hermione thought to herself.

She shifted her position once more. Narcissa had insisted that they clear the living room so that they could sit face to face on the floor but so far it was only Hermione sitting uncomfortably on the floor as Narcissa paced the room. Perhaps she could apply a cushioning charm to the floor to make the process more bearable…

“Nevermind how hard the floor is. You won’t notice it once you’ve cleared your mind.”

“I thought we agreed on no attempted Legilimency until I had cleared my mind?”

“It doesn’t count when you’re practically yelling about how uncomfortable floors are compared to chairs.” Narcissa replied with a smirk, perching herself on one of the aforementioned seats at the edge of the room.

Hermione huffed loudly but closed her eyes and attempted to do as Narcissa instructed. She tried to imagine it like organising her desk or a bookcase, filing thoughts away in compartments of her mind to be accessed later. As she was getting closer to the vague concept of a clear mind she felt rather than heard Narcissa say 

_Not quite how I’d do it but I can see it works…_

Hermione opened her eyes to see Narcissa sat crossed legged in front of her. Her face was calm, like she’d seen in the memory, eyes closed and just the very hint of a smile on her lips.

“How did you manage that? I thought I usually felt you in my head?” Hermione asked.

Narcissa opened her eyes slowly as if having to retreat back into herself first before she could speak. She focused her gaze on Hermione, blue eyes twinkling. “I do that as a courtesy. I can easily dip in and out without notice if I like. But I like to give people a fair chance of shielding their thoughts if they want to.”

“I see…” Hermione said, a mixture of worry and doubt creeping into her mind, suddenly making her uneasy.

Narcissa reached out, taking Hermione’s hand in her own. “I can assure you that the same courtesy applies to you, Hermione. I have not been wandering around in your mind without your knowledge. I hear things, yes. But I do my best to block out or ignore anything that is not mine.” She smoothed her thumb over the back of Hermione’s hand, drawing faint circles across her skin.

“Your trust is the most valuable thing I have in this world, Hermione.” She murmured quietly, reaching with her other hand to tilt Hermione’s head up so she could look her in the eyes. “I would never do anything to violate that trust.”

* * *

“Cissa, I’ve been meaning to ask…” Hermione said, her voice becoming muffled as she pulled a woolly jumper on over her pyjamas. “Ginny and Luna were thinking of popping round to visit this weekend, would that be okay with you?”

Narcissa shifted behind Hermione, pausing to scoop Hermione’s hair out from under the jumper. “Ginny’s the one who thinks I’m a MILF, yes?”

Hermione chuckled and rolled her eyes. “ _Yes_. But I don’t want you letting that go to your head, Narcissa!”

“Would I do such a thing?” Narcissa said playfully, batting her eyes at Hermione when she stood to go start their breakfast.

“You’re already doing it. I can sense it.”

Narcissa pouted and crossed her arms. “Is this your way of saying you don’t think I’m a MILF? I’m hurt, Hermione! Hurt!” She had her hand on her heart as if deeply wounded by the thought.

“I am _not_ answering that, Narcissa Black!” Hermione exclaimed with a nervous chuckle, leaving the room quickly so Narcissa couldn’t see how red this conversation was turning her face. Behind her she could hear Narcissa laughing to herself.

What she didn’t hear was Narcissa’s amused sing-song reply of “Hermione thinks I’m a MILF!”

When Narcissa joined her in the kitchen a few minutes later Hermione was thankful that her face had returned to a more natural colour. She didn’t think she could handle Narcissa’s gloating this morning. The blonde witch leant against the counter with the remnants of a smirk on her face, like she was still laughing at her own private joke. 

“You’re in a good mood today.” Hermione commented, directing a spell into a bowl of eggs and setting them to whisk.

“Aren’t I always?” 

“Hmm…” Hermione tapped her chin with her wand as if considering the question carefully. “No. You’re usually the world’s biggest grump until you have coffee.”

Narcissa smiled. Hermione wasn’t wrong there, she usually hated mornings. “Well maybe I’ve just had a _particularly_ good sleep for once. Plus, you actually had a lie in for once which means I’m well rested enough to not need coffee.”

“So I can pour this down the sink then?” Hermione indicated to the freshly made coffee by the sink.

Narcissa’s wand was in her hand before Hermione could make a move for the coffee. “Step away from the coffee, Granger! Just because I don’t need it doesn’t mean I don’t want it.” she growled.

Hermione backed away, hands up in surrender and snorting with laughter whilst Narcissa clutched at her mug of coffee.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re playing a risky game saying such things before this coffee is down my throat.”

The two witches smiled across the kitchen at each other and laughed. Both of them secretly marvelling at how far their friendship had come since Hermione had first knocked on the door of Black Manor.

Behind them, the fireplace glowed and Treacle gave one of his deep, booming barks. Narcissa raised an eyebrow. “I think my favourite Weasley is trying to get a hold of you, dear.” she said, taking a sip of her coffee with an amused glint in her eye.

“She’s only your favourite because you think she fancies you.” Hermione retorted, turning to go see what Ginny’s message was. “They’re planning on coming over this afternoon, if that’s alright?” She called over her shoulder only to find that Narcissa was no longer in the kitchen. “Cissa?”

“I’m getting changed!” Narcissa called from the bedroom. “I have to look my best for my favourite Weasley!”

* * *

Luna was the first to come through the spinning green flames, landing gracefully on the living room carpet as though she had been mid-skip when entering the fire. She pulled Hermione into a tight hug and kissed her on the cheek, then turned to Narcissa with a polite smile. “Hello again, Narcissa.”

Narcissa offered Luna her hand, unsure if the young witch would accept a handshake. “Luna, I’m glad I get to meet you again under better circumstances.” 

Luna took Narcissa’s hand eagerly. “Storms never last forever, Narcissa. It’s good to see you too.”

A moment later Ginny appeared, slightly less gracefully that Luna but making an entrance as always. “What’s up witches!” She gave Hermione a large hug and then made a bee-line for Narcissa. “Well if it isn’t the Mum I’d Like To F-”

“ _Ginny!_ ” Hermione interrupted, looking utterly mortified.

Narcissa took it all in her stride though, greeting Ginny with one of her dazzling pureblood smiles and declaring to the room at large “Well if it isn’t my new favourite Weasley! Do come sit next to me, dear.” And with that she ushered the redhead to the sofa and began speaking to her in a low conspiratorial voice.

Hermione found herself being taken to the opposite side of the room by the other blonde witch and gently pushed into the armchair whilst Luna perched on the arm. “You’ve got your glare face on, ‘Mione.” she teased lightly.

“What?” said Hermione, shaking her head. “No, it’s nothing, I just don’t want Ginny winding her up.” 

Luna smiled at her kindly, one of those smiles that showed she thought Hermione had very little idea about what was actually going on. "I think you'll find it's Narcissa who's winding Ginny up. Can't you see how red she's going? She's almost the same colour as her hair!"

"Yeah, well, Cissa thinks Ginny fancies her so she's all excited about that. Probably flirting with her just to see what happens."

"You’re so blind sometimes 'Mione." Luna said with a sweet kind of sadness in her voice. "You’ve never been able to see what's right in front of you."

What was Luna on about? She chanced a look across the room in time to see Narcissa laugh loudly and rest her hand on Ginny's arm. It was quite obvious what was going on, for heaven's sake!

"Let's talk about something else!" She declared loudly, almost as if she was trying to convince herself into the subject change rather than Luna. "How's work? You've not been covering yourself in pixie urine again, have you?"

* * *

"Oh you're in for it after this, just look at that face!" Ginny said in a hushed tone.

Narcissa looked up and saw that Hermione was positively fizzing in her seat, loudly telling Luna to tell her about her work. She let her hand fall from Ginny's arm, a little bit of guilt sinking in. She hadn’t meant to make her angry after all.

"I wouldn't worry about it too much." Ginny continued, seeing the guilt creep into Narcissa’s eyes. "If anything it's just proof that she cares."

"But does she? I mean, obviously she cares in some fashion. She's letting me stay here and be some part of her life for the time being. But that could just be common kindness! She is, after all, an unfailingly kind witch. She's been nothing but wonderful to me. And I… I… Oh never mind! This is ridiculous!"

"You like her." Ginny replied with a knowing smile. "You like her A LOT."

"I-" Narcissa heaved a sigh. "Yes. Alright, yes! There have been… moments… lately. I can't shake the feelings. I just feel compelled to be near her. Like she's the sun and I'm orbiting her, inexplicably tied to her."

Ginny whistled low, drawing Hermione’s attention briefly before she returned to an intense conversation with Luna. "Damn, MILF, you've got it bad..."

* * *

"Wine!" Ginny proclaimed twenty minutes later. "Takeaway and wine, what do you say?"

Hermione looked up to the clock on top of the fireplace and saw that it was past five. She stood up and stretched, looking to Luna, “Sounds like a good idea. Luna, want to come with me?”

“No!” Ginny interrupted. “I wanna go! I love the way their little machines work.”

Hermione shot her an incredulous look. “Really? Last time you threatened to blast open the coin dispenser because you got your change back all in 5ps.”

“I just don’t know why anyone would need coins that small! They’re infuriating. But that won’t happen this time. Harry gave me his credit thingy!” she pulled a black plastic card out of her purse and waved it in the air triumphantly.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Fine, you can come. But your wand stays sheathed okay? I don’t think we need another run in with the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad. Not after the last time… Luna, Cissa, will you be okay here? We shouldn’t be too long.” Hermione directed the last bit at Narcissa, feeling equal parts glad that Ginny would be coming with her and worried about leaving the two blonde witches alone. 

“We’ll be fine.” Luna answered for them both, moving to flop down on the sofa beside Narcissa. “I never did get to finish telling you that story about the Garden Gnome and the Dirigible Plums.”

“C’mon,” Ginny took Hermione’s hand and began dragging her out of the living room. “I’ve got a real hankering for cheese, chips and curry sauce…”

* * *

Treacle pulled at the lead as they neared the park, nearly hauling Ginny off her feet. “Soooooon, boy! Soooooon!” She told him, laughing at the speed his tail was going.

“Honestly, you’d think I never take him for walks! He gets two a day during the week and three at the weekend!” Hermione said in exasperation of Treacle’s neverending puppy dog behaviour.

“Maybe he gets extra excited when he has an extra walking partner?” Ginny suggested before adding, “You should bring Narcissa on your next walk, I reckon Treacle would love that!”

“Hmm.” Hermione hummed to herself, pausing to let Treacle off the lead now that they had reached the park.. “He’d like anything if Narcissa was involved. He’s very much in love with her.”

Ginny smirked. “He’s not the only one.”

“What do you mean by that?” Hermione sniped at her sharply.. “Who else is in love with her?”

“You, you doughball!” 

“What?!” Hermione sputtered at her friend. “What are you on about? That’s ridiculous. Where would you get an idea like that?”

Ginny crossed her arms and considered her friend. “Merlin’s beard!” she exclaimed. “You’re really dim, you know that? You’ve been falling in love with that witch for months now. And by the sounds of it, she’s been falling in love with you too. It’s so obvious!”

“N-Narc-” Hermione coughed nervously, face suddenly palling. “Narcissa is in love with me?”

“YES!” Ginny exclaimed, throwing her arms up to emphasise her point. “Merlin’s saggy left testicle! I have never met two witches so ridiculously blind to something so very clear.”

Hermione couldn’t fathom how she had missed it. All those moments with Narcissa. The almosts and not quite seconds where there had been _something_ that she couldn’t quite get her head around. She threw the ball for Treacle, watching him race off across the park to fetch it, her mind racing through her memories and putting the pieces together at last. The way Narcissa found excuses to brush against her, lay her hand on her arm or leg. How she would almost always hold on to Hermione for a second longer than necessary in the mornings. That smile that was only ever directed at Hermione, the one that made her stomach do flips.

“Fuck…” she muttered. “Fuuuuuuck! You’re right.” She turned to Ginny, gripping her firmly by the arms. “What do I do? You had this with Harry, right? How do I deal with this?!”

* * *

When the pair returned they found Narcissa and Luna sat on opposite sides of the coffee table, both blondes yelling obscenities at the chess pieces in front of them.

“It’s only a pissing pawn! Crush him!”

“Come near my pawn and you will die by my knight’s sword, you wretch!”

“Uhm, guys?” Hermione said cautiously, poking her head round the living room door. “Everything alright?”

“DIE! DIE DI- Oh hello, dear.” Narcissa said, a slight flush creeping across her cheeks being caught hurling abuse at a chess set.

“Lo, ‘Mione.” Luna added cheerfully roaring. “Cut the bitch down!”

Luna’s knight made a sweeping arc with his sword, slashing straight into the side of Narcissa’s queen and shattering the piece. Narcissa’s king, now exposed to Luna’s knight, threw his crown at the feet of the knight’s horse.

“Ha! I told you I could win this time round!” Luna crowed triumphantly, doing a little dance in her seat whilst Narcissa frowned.

“Hmm…” Narcissa pursed her lips. “So it would seem…”

“Oh don’t make that face, Cissa!” Hermione teased, pulling the blonde into an awkward hug that had Narcissa’s head against her chest. “We have wine and takeout so you’re not allowed to be mad.”

Narcissa was thankful her face was hidden from view as she was certain she was no longer her usual pale white. “Pass me the wine then.” was her muffled response with an outstretched hand.

Hermione pulled back slowly, looking down at Narcissa’s flushed face and smiled. She offered her hand to the witch and said “Come on then, let’s go get you that wine.” 

The rest of the night passed fairly uneventfully, the four witches enjoying their takeout (Narcissa was revolted by Ginny’s chips, cheese and curry sauce combo) and drinking wine. At some point a game of exploding snap got underway, Hermione and Narcissa teaming up to claim victory against the other two. “And that’s what you get for eating an abomination!” Narcissa had triumphantly exclaimed to Ginny whilst falling into Hermione in her merriment.

At some point Harry had sent a message through the fireplace asking Ginny if she could come back home as James was missing her. Luna had taken that as her cue to leave too, saying she really ought to check in on her dad too. This left Hermione and Narcissa sat on the sofa, leaning in to each other as they drank wine and took turns to scratch a sleepy Treacle’s ears.

Hermione gave a loud yawn and stretched out her legs in front of her. “Thanks for agreeing to Ginny and Luna coming over. It was nice to see them again. I haven’t had a night like tonight in a-a-a-ages!” She stuttered through the word, trying to speak through another yawn.

Narcissa chuckled sleepily. “I think it’s time we took you to bed, dear.”

“Heh.” Hermione giggled, placing her empty wine glass down and accepting Narcissa’s hand up. “You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

* * *

Hermione woke up to the irresistible smell of breakfast wafting through the flat and the realisation that Narcissa was not wrapped around her as usual. “Cissa?” She groaned, the sound of her voice sending pain lancing through her head.

The bedroom door opened with a soft click and she could hear Narcissa padding through barefoot with Treacle following closely behind. A soft thud sounded next to her on the bedside table and the smell of coffee wafted its way towards her.

"Morning sleepy." Narcissa said softly, smoothing Hermione's hair back off her forehead. "If you're feeling anything like I was earlier you'll have a killer headache." 

Hermione groaned in response.

"Hmm, I thought as much. Good thing I brought potion for you then isn't it?"

"Give it." Hermione managed to wave a hand in the vague direction she thought Narcissa's voice was coming from.

A slim potion vial was pressed into her hands by cool fingers that made her skin tingle. She knocked the potion back without opening her eyes, feeling it burn as it slid down her fault. She coughed, eyes blinking open to see Narcissa crouched down before her. "Fuck me, thats not Hitchen's Hangover!" 

Narcissa wrinkled her nose. "Gods no! I wouldn't give you that filth. This is a Black Family remedy. Burns like hell but you'll be feeling better in three… two… one…"

Hermione belched loudly and Narcissa gave a cackle like laugh, eyes twinkling with mirth. Hermione covered her mouth, mortified. She did, however, feel a million times better. Narcissa reached for the coffee and handed it to Hermione as she shuffled up the bed to sit upright.

"Better?"

"One thousand percent. But does it always make you burp like that?" 

"Hmm, not always. It varies from person to person. When I was younger I used to get fiery hiccups. Now… Well I'd rather not go into what it does to me now." She said with an embarrassed look to the floor. 

Hermione laughed and sipped her coffee. 

"I thought," Narcissa began, still addressing the floor. "We could continue working on your Occlumency today, if you have no other plans? Once you've had breakfast, of course."

"Well, after your hangover cure I think I'm just about ready to take on anything!"

* * *

The pair sat opposite each other on the floor, which Hermione had thought to cushion ahead of time this time around. Hermione’s face was screwed up in concentration whilst Narcissa’s had relaxed into another of serene calm. 

“Just breathe.” Narcissa said softly. “You’re thinking about this too much.”

“I’m deliberately hiding my thoughts, how am I not meant to think about it too much?!”

A small smile pulled at Narcissa’s lips. “The trick with Occlumency is to make everything look effortless, like you’re not purposefully hiding something. Think of it like a swan - on the surface everything is calm and serene, no one ever sees what’s going on underneath the swan.”

Hermione huffed in frustration. “That’s easy enough for you to say. Your mind _is_ a bloody swan! Mine is like a goose with its feet tied together!”

Narcissa snorted at the image.”Oh darling. Having seen your mind I can assure you that’s definitely not the case.” She reached out for Hermione’s hand, her eyes still closed, and rubbed small circles on the back of her hand. “Picture your office again for me. You can easily throw up a wall to defend yourself but I want to see if you can suitably convince someone that you’re not doing so.”

An image of an orderly office began to form in Hermione’s mind. A desk not dissimilar from the one in her office at the Ministry with a simple high backed chair behind it, in the corner stood a tall plant with large flat leaves sprouting from it. The walls were a plain cream colour and held a clock with a large clock face and numbers which ticked quietly in the background.

Narcissa wandered through the office, or at least the image of her did, opening the desk drawers and taking a seat behind the desk. 

_This is good. But you’re not giving me anything to tell me this is anything but a façade. When I look through the drawers I should see something real. Not anything that you’re intending to keep from me, of course. But something safe and real. Can you do that for me?_

_What would I give though? If someone were to attack my mind I don’t know that there’s much I would want to give them. I can’t give them anything involving my parents or my friends surely?_

Narcissa pulled back and opened her eyes, giving Hermione’s hand a squeeze to do likewise. “Hermione, would it help if I showed you what I do? I realise I’ve been giving you all theory but not really showing you what the end result should look like.”

“You would let me see inside your mind?” Hermione replied, wide-eyed.

“Well, perhaps not _everything_.” she said with a small smile at Hermione’s wonder. “But I can show you how I would defend myself against an intruder.” She opened her arms and beckoned for Hermione to come sit closer. Hermione turned herself around and slid backwards so they sat with Hermione’s back to Naricca’s front, as they did at night. Narcissa wrapped her arms round Hermione and pulled her close, resting her chin against her shoulder so that their temples touched.

“Close your eyes and I’ll project it for you.” Narcissa said softly, trying not to let the tingling sensation that drifted through her body every time she and Hermione touched distract her. She took some steadying breaths and began to Occlude, expanding so that Hermione could see also.

Narcissa’s mind presented itself as a grand library, similar to the one at Black Manor. Vast towering shelves overlooked them, expanding as far as the eye could see in front of them.

_This is incredible._

Hermione ran her hand along the shelves nearest her, each book giving her a glimpse of a different memory. 

_Draco whooshing through the halls of a large manor house on his first broom._

_The feeling of magic rushing through her veins when she held her first ever wand._

_Firewhisky burning down her throat late at night as she sat in the dark._

_Relief at finally being able to cast magic in her own home again as a smiling Hermione looked on._

She lowered her hand and tried to walk further into the library but found that the more she tried the harder it got and the further away the next set of shelves seemed. Then it clicked for her, Narcissa was offering up memories and sections of her thoughts for open perusal but keeping others out of reach. 

She turned to confirm with Narcissa but instead was taken off-guard seeing her standing with a book in hand, a fond smile gracing her lips. 

_What’s that?_

_This? It’s the memories I used to cast my first proper patronus. I wouldn’t normally keep this sort of thing here but, well, I see no harm in you knowing._

She offered the book to Hermione, who took it with intrigue. The memory that had given Narcissa the strength to produce her beagle patronus at last. She opened the book and was greeted by a series of images, some of them longer than others, but all of them of a similar theme.

_Hermione bouncing on her heels, grinning from ear to ear. Hermione laughing. Hermione holding her for the first time in Black Library. Hermione defending her from the Dementors. Her smile. Her laugh. The delicate blush that always crept up her neck and cheeks at a kind word or comment. How she had moaned with delight at dessert in The Crossed Wands. What seemed to be every single smile she had ever given Narcissa. The spontaneous hugs and touches._

Hermione’s eyes fluttered open. She could feel Narcissa’s breath brushing against her cheek. She turned slowly, her breath mingling with Narcissa’s now. They were so close that their lips were almost touching. If she just leaned in a bit further…

Soft. Narcissa Black's lips were so wonderfully soft she couldn’t believe it. And they were kissing her back, smoothly gliding over her own in a delicate caress. She leant in further, capturing Narcissa’s lips more firmly, pulling her bottom lip between her own, grazing it lightly with her teeth and then releasing it. Narcissa moaned softly, a hand sliding up to cup the back of Hermione’s head and hold her there.

_Don't stop._

Hermione increased the intensity of the kiss, letting her tongue glide over Narcissa’s lips until they parted. She slid her tongue in, exploring Narcissa’s mouth eagerly. Her entire body was abuzz with electric energy, as though this was where she had always meant to be and her body was confirming this.

And then, as quickly as it had begun, it stopped. Narcissa pulled away sharply, gasping for breath and a concerned look on her face.

"The fireplace."

Hermione whipped around to see the fireplace aglow and a slightly singed envelope lying in the ashes. She snatched it up, ignoring the burn of the hot parchment on her skin to tear the envelope open and read the letter inside.

She read in silence, her face settling into more and more of a frown as she did so until, reaching the end, she shredded the letter to pieces and threw the scraps back into the fire.

"I have to go." She said suddenly, summoning a set of Ministry robes to her and rushing out the living room door. "I'm sorry, I'll be right back, I promise!"

Narcissa watched her go, confused about what had just happened. Was it something she'd done? Had something happened? She summoned the pieces of parchment to her, watching them arrange themselves back into semi-readable order. As she read the letter her face blanched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea what you folks will have thought of this so... come shout at me in the comments?


	16. The Trial of Narcissa Black

**_Three days later_ **

“So she seriously just left?”

“Yes.”

“No note?”

“No note.”

“Literally nothing?”

“Nothing. If it hadn’t been for Harry I wouldn’t even know where the hell she is.”

“Are you that bad a kisser?”

“Fuck off.”

Hermione was sprawled out on the rug in front of Ginny’s fire where she’d landed some ten minutes ago with rumpled clothes, bird nest hair and a bottle of firewhisky in hand. Her eyes were red and puffy and tear streaks criss-crossed her face like a loose mesh. Ginny tried once more to prise the bottle from Hermione’s hands but was met with snotty resistance.

“I need that.” Hermione sniffed at her, clutching the bottle to her and rolling on her side, curling around the bottle.

“You’re not going to find Narcissa at the bottom of that bottle, ‘Mione.” Harry said gently, having just returned from putting James to bed.

“ _You_ ” she spat the word at him, jabbing a finger at where she thought he stood. “don’t get to tell me _shit_ , Harry Potter! You’re the reason she’s back there.”

Harry sighed and took a seat next to Ginny. “She asked me to take her back there. What did you want me to do? Tell her no?”

“Obviously!”

“The Manor is safe now, ‘Mione. You know that.” Harry pleaded with her softly.

Hermione’s only response was to take another swig from her bottle and hiccup to herself.

* * *

“You better have a bloody good reason for this, Potter!” The blonde grumbled, sweeping his hair back as he sat opposite the Boy Who Lived.

“You know I wouldn’t call you back here if I didn’t have good reason, Draco.” Harry said, sliding a butterbeer across the table. “But she won’t talk to anyone else. Won’t let anyone near the house. I don’t really understand how she’s managed it but the wards have changed. You’re just about the only person that can get through the bloody things.”

Draco took a slow sip of his butterbeer, considering the wizard before him. They’d come to be on vaguely civil terms since his trial and subsequent acquittal, but that didn’t mean he wanted to do him any favours.

“You can’t think of anyone else? What about Granger? She always got in before. Seems like her and Mother had become rather _close_.” He said the word carefully, like he didn’t quite trust it not to turn sour in his mouth. “Can’t you let her loose on the wards?”

“That’s the issue.” Harry said. “Hermione isn’t up for anything near as strenuous as that right now. And besides… We’ve looked at the wards. They look and feel like Hermione’s, not Narcissa’s. That’s why the whole thing is so bloody confusing. But there’s a loophole in there for you, so if _you_ can go in and convince her to drop the wards then maybe I can get someone else in there to try and sort this all out.”

“Hmm…” Draco frowned into the amber liquid in his glass. “What’s got Granger so indisposed?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Well you see, Potter.” He stood, brushed a fleck of something from his suit, and lent across the table. “I think it is. Because if my Mother is somehow capable of creating Hermione Granger-esque wards and Granger can’t get off her arse to fix it, I need to know why. What’s happened between the two of them? Mother was living with Granger whilst the Manor was restored, was she not?”

Harry leant back, distancing himself from Draco. “I wish I knew, Draco. I really do. All I know is that _something_ happened and then Narcissa got a message to me demanding she be allowed back to Black Manor. I’ve not been able to speak with her since.”

Draco stood up straight again and straightened his tie, a grim look of determination settled on his face. “Alright. I’ll go see her. But if Granger has done anything to hurt her, I swear I’ll come for the both of you.”

* * *

Narcissa’s stomach grumbled loudly, the sound echoing around the drawing room. She was huddled up in what she thought of as ‘Hermione’s chair’, her own chair having been blasted to bits in an earlier fit of rage. She’d had a few of those since returning and the Manor bore the marks of her emotions all over. The only room that had been spared thus far was the library. She had been very careful to avoid the library, somehow she felt that unleashing her anger on the books would be a step too far.

Her hand swung down and fumbled at the bottle at the foot of the chair, causing it to tip and smash on the wooden floor. “Urgh.” she grumbled, not even having the energy to be properly angry at the wasted spirit now soaking into the floorboards. Wand. Where was the blasted thing? She groped around in the chair for it but came up empty. “Urgh!” she exclaimed again, louder this time. What did it matter anyway? Wand or no wand there was nothing worth summoning in the house anyway. 

The sound of smart footsteps making their way into the room made her lift her head up groggily. She must have finally reached the stage of hallucinations. Or perhaps she was dying. Whatever. There was no way the tall, slim blonde man before her could actually be here.

“Mother.” The mirage or whatever it was announced curtly.

Gosh, it even sounded like him. How realistic.

“ _Mother._ ” It insisted firmly, taking a step closer.

Narcissa smiled to herself. Her imagination really was impeccable. Even the sneer of disdain that lay upon this imaginary Draco was perfect.

“MOTHER!” Draco shouted, gripping Narcissa by the shoulders and shaking her. “Will you answer me already?!”

His grip hurt. Huh. If he wasn’t real then that shouldn’t be. So that must mean…

“Draco?” she croaked, her voice cracked and dry from lack of use. “You’re here.”

Satisfied that his mother hadn’t completely lost it he took a step back and straightened himself up a bit. “I’m here. I’m told you won’t see anyone.”

“How did you get in?”

“Your wards allowed it. Now, why won’t you see anyone?”

“I don’t want to.”

He groaned in frustration and looked around for somewhere to sit. Finding nowhere, he perched uncomfortably on the edge of the coffee table. “That’s not the answer. If that was the case you could have stayed at Granger’s place and ignored the world there. It’s not like anyone could find you. But here, people know you’re here and you’re deliberately blocking them out, so explain to me. Why don’t you want to see anyone? Why am I having to be the errand boy for Harry _sodding_ Potter and his friends?”

Narcissa pulled her knees to her chest. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“For Salazar’s sake will you _please_ say anything other than ‘I don’t want to’? It’s infuriating, Mother! Clearly something has happened to cause you to leave Granger’s abode and come tear up the Manor instead, now spill it!”

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, avoiding eye contact with her son. “I said I-”

“No. I’m not having this Mother, you’re going to tell me what happened and you’re going to tell me now.” He crossed his arms imperiously like he had as a boy when he hadn't gotten his way. “Well? Get on with it.”

Narcissa sighed, closed her eyes for a moment, and then began in a croaky voice. "She got a letter. From the Weasley boy."

"Ron." Draco grumbled.

"Yes." Narcissa said quietly. She had done nothing but think about that letter since she had returned but now that she was actually being asked to speak of the matter she found her will to rage about it fading. "He wrote to her to say there had been a breakthrough in a case of Hermione’s."

Draco frowned. "You left… because Weasley wrote Granger a letter about _work_?"

Narcissa sighed in exasperation, a little of her strength returning to her at Draco's seeming denseness. "No! I didn't leave because of a letter about work! I left because of what else was in that letter!" She was up and pacing now, hands gesticulating as she moved. "He said that she was going to end up down a dark path if she kept doing what she was doing. If she kept helping me. He said I was a bad influence! That I would turn her dark somehow! Because," she stormed across the room and kicked a stray chair leg in anger. "I am apparently the root of all bloody evil!"

Draco watched as she assaulted various bits of broken furniture, eyebrows raised at the unusual tantrum from his normally calm and composed mother. It was the kind of thing he might expect from his father. And all this… because of something Weasley wrote?

"Don't you think you're taking Weasel-boy's words to heart a bit much?" He shouted over her raging, unsure whether he should be restraining his mother from her spirited kicking of an already tattered cushion.

"No!" She shouted with one last boot at the cushion, collapsing in a heap amongst the remains of the chair, with her hair falling inelegantly across her face. "It was signed 'all my love, always, Ron'"

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Mother…" he said slowly, not sure he wanted to know the answer to the question he was about to ask. "What does it matter how Weasley signs off his letters to Granger? Do you… Are you saying you… lo-"

* * *

Draco had decided to stay on at the Manor even though his mother’s admission that she was in love with his former classmate had thrown him for a loop. So he got to witness first hand her reaction to the Ministry Summons that arrived the next day. At first there was shock.

“No. No no no no no no!” Narcissa backed away from the parchment as it announced the date to her repeatedly.

_9am, 23rd October! 9am, 23rd October! 9am, 23rd October!_

Then she got angry and tried to burn, banish, and blast it out of existence repeatedly. All to no avail. She screamed at it to leave her alone as it floated along behind her and repeated the date. Eventually Draco had to take the letter in hand himself and lock it in another room in the Manor to give his mother (and him) some peace. But, being a magical letter, it found its way back to the drawing room where Narcissa had basically set up camp.

For three days straight he couldn’t get a single word out of his mother, barely an acknowledgement from her at all really, as she sat curled up in the armchair. 

The day before the trial he decided he had had enough and announced to his mother “I’m going out. When I come back I expect you to be up and dressed,” he wrinkled his nose as she shifted in her chair, “and preferably washed. You and I are going to sit down for dinner and we’re going to talk strategies for tomorrow.”

When Narcissa replied her voice croaked and it felt like there was sandpaper sliding down her throat. “Where are you going?”

“You’ll see soon enough.”

* * *

The gavel thumped against the wooden desk three times, barely audible over the sound of the chattering Wizengamot. In the end Kingsley pointed his wand to his throat with a muttered " _Sonorus_ " to be heard over the babble.

"Bring the defendant in."

The temperature in the courtroom dropped suddenly, the breaths of the Wizengamot misting across the courtrooms as Narcissa Black was brought in by six Dementors. She looked pale. Paler than usual, and her entire body seemed to shake as the hooded figures glided eerily beside her. A look of relief nearly passed over her face when she reached the chair in the centre of the room and the Dementors parted to hover at the edge. But then the chains on the chair clanked and creaked into action, wrapping round her arms and ankles, forcibly pulling her into the chair. She glared up at the Minister, not haughtily as her sister might have done, but tiredly with a sense of 'is this really necessary?'

The Minister did not acknowledge her glare and instead spoke to the Wizengamot at large. "We are gathered here for the retrial of Narcissa Vulpecula Ma- _Black._ " Kingsley shot a look to the side of Narcissa but continued. "Madam Black, the charges against you are that you committed acts of sabotage against the wizarding world during the Second Wizarding War and knowingly supported and aided the dark wizard formerly known as Lord Voldemort. How do you plead?"

Narcissa glowered up at him but before she could reply a figure she hadn't noticed before stepped forward and announced to the court "She pleads not guilty, Minister."

She very nearly gave herself whiplash from turning her head so fast. Stood not four foot from her was Hermione in full Ministry robes, pale faced and bushy haired as usual. Something inside her yearned for the witch to be closer and she found her arms pulling at the chains that bound her. She fought the urge and turned her attention back to the Minister of Magic who looked almost weary at Hermione's appearance.

"I was asking Madam Black, not you, Ms Granger." He said slowly, keeping his tone even but deep.

"I have been appointed as Madam Black's representative for this case, Minister. So I may speak on behalf of Madam Black."

"By who?" Kingsley demanded, echoing Narcissa’s thoughts. 

Who had had the audacity to appoint Hermione without consulting her? She hadn't known about the trial until last week and yet someone else had known and had worked to get Hermione on side, suggesting that both Ms Granger and the mysterious appointer had known prior to the letter being issued.

The door to the courtroom swung open and a blonde man in a dark suit walked with purpose into the room, accompanied by a proud looking silver stag which shielded him from the Dementors. He nodded to a man with messy black hair behind him and the stag disappeared as the door closed. Draco Malfoy took-up position beside Hermione, straightening his tie as he did so. "By me, Shacklebolt." He said clearly with a look of disdain on his face. "Granger was appointed by me."

Narcissa stared at her son but he did not look at her, choosing instead to glare up at Kingsley with his hands clasped behind his back. The stance was like his father's but the glower was all Black. Had he not been shockingly blonde he might have made a good imitation of a male Bellatrix.

Kingsley grumbled at the intrusion and shuffled his papers before continuing. "Alright. Can the defendant explain why they did not inform the authorities of the return of the wizard known as Lord Voldemort in 1995?"

So, they were really going to rehash the trial again, were they? Narcissa thought, readying herself to answer. But before she could so much as open her mouth Hermione had stepped forward once more.

"Madam Black, as you and members of the Wizengamot well know, was not present the night of Lord Voldemort's return. Her then-husband, Lucius Malfoy, was in attendance that night. As they were married at the time Madam Black was unable to reveal her husband's secrets even if she had wanted to." Hermione stated with a roll of her eyes at the ridiculousness of the question.

Kingsley seemed to accept this without fuss as it was exactly the same answer that had been given in her original trial. “Then, can the defendant explain to the court her actions of the night of Thursday 16th April 1998 at Malfoy Manor?” His expression had turned smug, like he had cornered them at last. Narcissa groaned internally, this had happened in her last trial too.

“Minister,” she began coldly, knowing her words here would be recorded for all of wizarding Britain to know. “As was stated in my previous statement to this court, I did not participate in the events that night. I merely watched as they unfolded.”

“With all due respect.” Hermione cut in, “My client is not telling you the truth in this matter.”

Narcissa could see Draco raise an eyebrow at Hermione’s interjection but he seemed to allow it. Trusting the woman, perhaps. _A fool's decision_. She thought to herself, just as she had done when the letter had arrived. It had been obvious then and it was obvious now that she had been an idiot to trust Hermione Granger. And here was the proof, she was going to make up some lie that would have her thrown into Azkaban for the rest of her days. How could Draco be so foolish too?!

“Oh?” Kingsley questioned, struggling to keep his expression neutral. “Go on.”

“Narcissa Black,” Hermione began, walking round the circular podium Narcissa’s chair sat on, “Played a number of crucial parts in the events of that night. Might I call a witness to the stand?”

“You may.”

“I call on Draco Malfoy to give evidence regarding the night of 16th April 1998.”

Draco nodded and walked forward to stand in front of the Wizengamot. He held out his wand to Kingsley and announced “I swear on the magic residing within me to tell the truth and nothing but the truth.” His wand produced gold sparks before Kingsley took it from him and held it on the desk in front of him.

“Mr Malfoy,” Hermione addressed Draco. “Can you explain to the court what happened when myself, Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley were brought to Malfoy Manor on the night of 16th April?”

Draco coughed to clear his throat. “When Potter, Granger, and Weasley were brought to my home my aunt, Bellatrix Lestrange, demanded to know if they were who she and the Snatchers believed them to be. Potter had clearly been attacked by some kind of stinging hex which obscured his scar. My mother, who is a skilled Legillimens, told me by way of Legilimency to lie and say I couldn’t tell. Thus buying Potter and his friends time before the Dark Lord was summoned.”

“Thank you Mr Malfoy. And can you also inform the court what happened next?”

Draco glanced down at his shoes briefly, shifting on the spot. “Yes. Upon hearing I could not clearly identify Potter both he and Weasley were taken to the dungeons of the Manor where the Dark Lord insisted we keep prisoners. This left Granger upstairs with myself, my mother, and…” he gulped hard. “And my aunt. Bellatrix decided that she would take out her rage on Granger because she was a Mud- a Muggleborn. She tortured Granger by use of the Cruciatus Curse and a cursed blade, a dagger. When Granger would not give her the information she wanted she began carving the word ‘Mudblood’ into her arm with the cursed dagger. Had she not been stopped by the return of Potter and Weasley with the House-Elf Dobby… I believe she would have killed her.”

The courtroom had remained quiet for Draco’s testimony but now that it appeared he was finished a low murmur broke out. The court had heard some of what had happened that night before but not all of it. The news that Narcissa had used legilimency to tell Draco not to hand over Potter was certainly intriguing, they had not heard this at the last trial.

Narcissa watched on from the chair, wondering just what Hermione was playing at. Surely, surely soon she would drop the bombshell comment that would land her a cell in Azkaban? She almost wanted the brunette to look at her so that she could get some sense of what was going on in her head. Had they been anywhere else she felt she would have known but there were too many people here for her to narrow in on Hermione’s mind alone.

“Thank you Mr Malfoy.” Hermione said with a nod to Draco before turning to Kingsley once more. “Minister, if it pleases the court I would now like to recant my own memories of the night as well as other pertinent memories.”

Kingsley looked at Hermione for a long moment, as though considering if she was actually serious. “Ms Granger, it’s highly unusual for the defendant’s representative to use their own memories as a defence…”

“I’m aware, Minister. But I think you’ll find there are a number of exceptions throughout the court’s history where this has happened previously. I have them here if you’d like them.” She produced a large sheaf of parchment from a bag and offered them up to Kingsley but he shook his head and waved her off. 

“You may proceed Ms Granger. If you’ll take the oath?”

Hermione pulled both her wands from their respective sheaths and presented them to Kingsley as Draco had done “I swear on the magic residing within me to tell the truth and nothing but the truth.” Both wands produced a shimmer of gold sparks simultaneously. Kingsley raised an eyebrow at the two wands responding to the oath but accepted them anyway, allowing Hermione to continue.

“As Mr Malfoy has informed the court, I was tortured at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange.” She began walking around the podium again, ensuring every member of the Wizengamot was able to see her as she made her testimony. “During that torture Narcissa Black watched.”

Here it was. 

“Narcissa Black watched and she did nothing.”

This was the deathblow. 

“Did nothing obvious! As Mr Malfoy has already pointed out, Narcissa Black is a skilled Legillimens. She is so skilled that she can expand her own Occlumency shields to another if she so desires.” Hermione pulled a small vial from her robes and placed it in front of Kingsley. 

“This vial contains my memories of Madam Black doing exactly that on a number of occasions for myself whilst she resided with me, in order to protect me from the effects of the cursed scar I received on the night of the 16th April 1998. And this,” she produced another vial of memory, “contains the memories of said night where I believe…” 

Her voice faltered and she turned to Narcissa, eyes shining with unshed tears. “I believe Narcissa expanded her own Occlumency shields to protect my mind from Bellatrix Lestrange as she repeatedly cursed me.”

A shocked murmur ran through the Wizengamot, witches and wizards turning to each other to express their disbelief at Hermione’s revelation. If this was true… Well it couldn’t be, could it?

Kingsley banged his gavel on the desk, calling for order. “Ladies and gentlemen of the Wizengamot. Let us speculate no further until we have observed the evidence.” He picked up the first vial Hermione had presented to him and muttered to an aide to fetch the pensieve. When they came back, maneuvering a six foot wide bowl into position at the side of Narcissa’s chair, Kingsley made his way down from his seat and poured the memories into the ancient looking bowl. The memories swirled round the bowl a few times before projecting themselves upward, one at a time, so that the whole Wizengamot could see. They watched in awe as Hermione’s memories played out in front of them. Hermione gave commentary to the memories, noting how on almost every occasion Narcissa’s intervention had come with a cool soothing feeling. 

“That feeling. That feeling is Narcissa’s signature motif when she wants someone to know she is in their mind. She explained as much to me whilst teaching me Occlumency so that I might defend myself. If it pleases the Wizengamot, I would now like to show you the night at Malfoy Manor.” 

Kingsley took the first memory from the bowl and then deposited the second memory into the stone basin. The memory flared into life above them, the dark drawing room of Malfoy Manor projected around the room. 

_Bellatrix threw Hermione to the floor, wiping her hands on her black skirt as thought she’d touched something filthy. Draco was ashen faced as he dragged the body of a snatcher out of the room to the courtyard for his aunt to deal with later. In the corner, Narcissa took in the scene with a critical gaze, her eyes sweeping over the room as though to take in every last detail. With a flurry of raven curls Bellatrix threw herself on the muggleborn, straddling her with a menacing snarl._

_“How did you come to be in possession of the Sword of Gryffindor?!” she screamed at the brunette beneath her, her wand digging in painfully at the witch’s neck. “How did you get into my vault?!” Bellatrix dug her nails into Hermione’s shoulder as she shook her, drawing a cry of pain from Hermione._

_“I’ve not been near your vault! I swear!” She whimpered back at the wild eyed witch, trying desperately to throw her off._

_“Don’t LIE to me!” Bellatrix arched back and slashed her wand violently at Hermione. The arm of Hermione’s jumper severed and a deep gash appeared on her shoulder. She screamed as her flesh tore, a heart wrenching scream that made the blonde in the corner wince._

_Hermione tried to move her other arm to cover the wound but couldn’t as Bellatrix shifted her weight to kneel on her forearm heavily. She sobbed at the pain, hot tears bursting forth from her eyes and laying tracks across her face._

_“Please…” she sobbed, yelping further as Bellatrix dug her knee in further. “I don’t know anything! I do-”_

_Bellatrix cut her off with a backhanded slap, sending Hermione’s head careering into the wooden floor. A loud crack filled the room and she couldn’t tell if it had come from the floor or her head. It didn’t matter, she was dizzy, she could barely concentrate and almost missed the faint sound of Narcissa’s voice._

_“Bella… Is this really necessary? If the boy is who we think he is what does it matter where the sword came from?"_

_"Of course it matters!" Bellatrix screeched at her sister, twisting round on top of Hermione to brandish her wand at the blonde. "If he finds out we're done for, all of us!"_

_Narcissa’s gaze hardened for a second and then returned to its neutral appraisal of the room at large. "Fine. But try not to waste all your energy on the girl."_

_Bellatrix cackled loudly and returned to the whimpering Hermione. "Now, Muddy, tell me how you got into my vault…" She stroked Hermione’s face softly with one hand and followed it up with a stinging backhand with the other. Hermione's head slammed off the floor again, sending a pulsing pain through her skull._

_"I didn't… We didn't… We found the sword…" Her words came out in breathless bursts, in between the pounding pain radiating through her head._

_"LIAR! CRUCIO!"_

_Pain unlike any other tore through her. It was like fire, racing across her body in vicious paths, never ending, blinding her until the only thing she knew was excruciating pain. There was nothing else in this world. Only pain._

_And then, as quickly as it had started, it was over. She allowed herself a few panting breaths before she opened her eyes again._

_A grinning Bellatrix loomed above her. The raven haired woman let loose a cackle that thundered against Hermione’s eardrums with a throbbing ache. "Did you enjoy that, Muddy? I know I did." She leant close until her stinking breath was ghosting over Hermione’s skin. "How did you get into my vault, Mudblood? Which of the goblins let you in?" She whispered softly, scraping her long nails down Hermione’s cheek until she reached her chin where she dug them in and drew blood._

_"I've not been in your vault." Hermione said through shuddering sobs. Her entire body ached like she had the flu. She couldn't think. Could only stammer in response. "P-p-p-please! I don't know what you're t-t-t-talking about!"_

_Bellatrix stood quickly, spinning Hermione round beneath her until she was lying on her front. She dug her pointed heel boot into Hermione’s back, bringing forth another scream of pain from the witch._

_"You have the Sword of Gryffindor in your possession. You stole it! Now tell me HOW!"_

_Before Hermione could answer Bellatrix had unleashed another crucio and all she could think about was the pain. It was white hot, like lightning, coursing through her veins, shredding the skin of her back. She wanted to die. Death would be better than this, surely?_

_But death would not come. Bellatrix would not allow it. Everytime Hermione thought she might actually pass out from the pain Bellatrix lifted the curse and allowed her a few pain free moments to gasp out another few words. It didn't matter what she said though, Bellatrix didn't want to hear the truth. Her eyes were wild, pupils wide with lust and excitement as she exacted her anger upon Hermione._

_She had no idea how long she had been on the floor of Malfoy Manor. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours. There was no way of knowing. All she knew was bone searing pain and small, all too short, periods of relief. After Bellatrix’s latest bout of torment she found herself curled up on her side with her back to the dark witch. Her back was soaked in blood, rivers of it running from the multitude of cuts and slashes Bellatrix had bestowed upon her. She stared, empty eyed, across the room at the pale figure of Narcissa leaning against a large walnut dining table. The witch’s expression gave the appearance that she was bored. She checked the nails of one hand, inspecting them as though there was not a bleeding teenager lying on her floor. But her eyes were red around the edges from strain. She flicked her gaze to Hermione and for a moment, just a moment, Hermione thought she saw a flicker of something different._

_The moment passed and Narcissa looked up to her sister. "Are you quite done, Bella? I expect you'll kill the girl soon enough if you continue."_

_Good… Death would be a relief._

_Narcissa’s eyes flicked back to Hermione briefly and there was that look of_ something _again. What was it?_

_She didn't have time to consider it further. Bellatrix was hauling her on to her back again, gleeful at Hermione’s whimpering as her back slammed onto the wooden flooring._

_"Just one last thing. A parting gift of sorts." She grinned wide, her yellowing teeth on show, as she reached into the many folks of her skirt and withdrew a shining, glimmering dagger with an obsidian hilt._

_Hermione turned her face away. If Bellatrix was going to stab her then she didn't want or need to see it. Her eyes locked instead with the blue eyes of Narcissa, who was standing forward of where she had last been, her hand twitching as though to reach out for something._

_Just let it be quick, she thought. Let my death be quick._

_Bellatrix plunged her knife into Hermione’s forearm, dragging it harshly down to cut through skin, tendons and muscle. She screamed. Screamed until it felt like her throat was going through a grinder. There was nothing else in this world but the fire in her arm and the screeching pain in her head. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing._

_Blue._

_Ice blue._

_Cool and calm and serene._

_Impassable._

_That's what else there was. If she focused on that then the pain wasn't so bad. It still hurt and she still screamed but somehow she could bear it. Even Bellatrix’s cackling seemed distant now, like it was happening in another room, directed at another Hermione._

_With a crash the feeling was gone and the pain was back again. She let loose a scream and chaos erupted around her. Spells ricocheted off the walls, shattering glass and splintering wood. Bellatrix pushed off of her and spun out of the way as a chandelier came hurtling down at her._

_The chandelier shattered on either side of Hermione’s head, sending pieces of crystal flying, some of them slicing through her skin as they exploded on impact. The ones directly above her remained intact, seeming to slow before they landed upon her with a gentle thud that was still enough to knock the air from her lungs._

_"'Mione!" Ron's voice came from somewhere to her left. "_ Bombarda maxima! _Hermione, I've got you, I've got you!" She felt the chandelier shifting, some of the crystal digging into her further in the process, causing her to scream further. Suddenly it was off her entirely as though banished and Ron was pulling her to her feet. "Come on 'Mione, this way. Just stay with me."_

_They were up and reaching for Dobby now. His small hands stretching out for them as Harry grabbed Griphook and hoisted him up onto his shoulders. Hermione threw a confused look back across the room, unsure how any of this had happened and saw Bellatrix readying herself to throw the dagger at her. To the side a surge of red light, a stupefy perhaps, appeared and pushed Draco away from his mother and towards his aunt. He slammed into Bellatrix just as she released the knife, sending it ever so slightly off course until it was no longer sailing towards her but the small elf who's hand she now clasped._

The memory ended and Hermione found herself standing in front of Narcissa, gazing at her as tears flowed freely down her face. "Ladies and gentlemen of the Wizengamot. Narcissa Black has done many things in her time. A number of them may well have been dark in nature. But had it not been for her actions that night we would have surely lost the war and drastically so. She risked her life to provide me with protection in my greatest hour of need. Had Bellatrix noticed her actions I have no doubt that myself, Ronald Weasley, Harry Potter and Narcissa herself would have perished that night." 

She turned to Kingsley and wiped away the tears roughly. "Minister, I move that Narcissa Black be cleared of any wrongdoing for the part she played in the war. She saved a number of lives that night as well as on the night of the final battle. She deserves a second chance at life."

The Minister returned to his seat and thought for a moment. There was more he could ask of Narcissa but he doubted it would change any minds now that Hermione had given her defence of the witch. 

"The Wizengamot is asked to cast its decision. All those in favour of clearing Narcissa Vulpecula Black of all wrongdoing?" 

A number of hands shot into the air, moving like a wave around the circular room until it seemed like all hands were raised save for Kingsley’s. He looked around the room and nodded, picking up his gavel and bringing it down with a resounding crack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies, as always, for this taking seemingly forever to appear. You can all go thank Yanana for bothering me on an almost daily basis to get this written.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed the revelations that have come from this chapter! This is the second last chapter of this particular fic so I'll try not to be too long in posting the conclusion for you!
> 
> As always, I love to read your comments (good or bad) so please feel free to yell at me there :D
> 
> Bet_on_Black


	17. Narcissa Unleashed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here it is, the last chapter of Worth Saving. It's entirely *not* the chapter I had intended to write but there we go, this is what the plot bunnies gave me.
> 
> I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Bet_on_Black

As the gavel hit the desk the chains rattled off of Narcissa’s wrists and she was free.

_ Free. _

What did that even mean?

To her right Hermione was standing close to Draco and murmuring quietly. Her son was nodding, a small smile pulling at his lips as he shook Hermione’s hand and turned to face his mother. Draco strode forward and offered his hand to Narcissa but her eyes were looking past him to the brunette rushing out the door with messy sheafs of parchment tucked under her arm.

“Mother?” Draco queried, hand still outstretched. She shook her head and accepted his hand up. She was stiff from being pinned into one position by the chair so was grateful for the assistance.

“Thank you, Draco. For this and,” she looked around the courtroom as it emptied and gestured, “well, all of this really.”

“Don’t thank me.” He said with a shrug. “Seems to me that Granger did all the legwork. All I did was persuade her that she was the right person to represent you.” He linked his arm with his mother’s and led her towards the door. “I think…” Draco hesitated a moment, drawing in a deep breath. “I think you and Granger need to talk.  _ Really _ talk. I don’t know what it is that’s been going on between the two of you but there’s definitely something. Don’t let that go, whatever it is.” 

Narcissa was taken aback at Draco’s words. She looked at her son, taking him all in, realising for the first time in a long while that her son was no longer a boy desperate for his father’s approval but rather a man. A man who had been thrown into the world of adults long before his time and had suffered for it. “Draco,” she said softly, gently pushing a loose strand of hair from his forehead. “Your father and I never told you this enough when you were younger but… I’m proud of you. I’ve always been proud of you. You grew up in darkness and still managed to find the light.”

Her son smiled at her, cheeks tinged with pink. “We both did. In the end.” He gave his mother’s hand a quick squeeze. “I have to be getting back to Astoria now but… If you’d like, we could have dinner next week? All three of us?”

Narcissa beamed. “Absolutely. I would love to. Thank you, Dragon.” She leaned in and smoothed his hair back once more, pressing a light kiss to his forehead (though she had to stand on her tip-toes to do so). “I think I need to go find Hermione now. I don’t suppose you happen to know where her office is?”

* * *

_ You’re being a right idiot, you know that? _

Hermione tossed the coin across her office. She didn’t need Ginny’s perspective right now. Right now she needed to get her head together and get back on this case. 

She was glad things had worked out for Narcissa, of course she was, it had been the plan all along. Convince the Wizengamot that they had got it wrong, give a wronged woman her freedom. And that was done now. So she should just get back to work and focus on the next case.

The stack of parchment in the corner where she’d thrown the coin started to smolder as a series of messages came through.

“Shit!” She rushed over and picked up the hot coin, casting silently to repair the slightly singed paperwork. With frantic taps she read through the messages so that the coin wouldn’t overheat.

_ You had the perfect chance to do it! _

_ It really doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks, you know! _

_ I just don’t get why you find it so hard to communicate. _

_ Speaking of which, you’re ignoring me now, aren’t you? _

_ Hermione _

_ Hermione _

_ Hermione! _

_ Oh come on!  _

She huffed at the coin but replied to Ginny’s messages all the same.

_ Look, I just have a lot of work to do, okay? I can talk about all this later! _

The coin warmed against her palm before she even got the chance to put it back down.

_ Well we both know that’s a lie.  _

Hermione rolled her eyes and tapped the coin again, this time to remove the heat notification from it to stop any further fires, and placed it down on her desk. Was today not hard enough without her harping on at her? She dropped down into her chair and began flicking through the large file on her desk. After Ron’s message that night she’d been drowning in paperwork for the Bodgwell case. It was never ending.

It turned out Bodgwell  _ had _ been interfered with at some point on his return from holiday. Luna and her team of Unspeakables had recovered the barest fragment of a memory from Bodgwell and were working now to unpick it. From what she’d seen so far Bodgwell had been snuck up on by an unknown assailant and placed under a heavy Imperius Curse before having his memories altered in some way. So now they were trying to track his movements and find who he had interacted with in the week prior. It was proving to be a nightmare. The Sardinian Ministry had very little interest in handing over any names, claiming that this was a British problem as he was their citizen.

So hard was her focus on the problem in front of her that she did not hear the soft knock at her office door. Nor did she hear the door open and close quickly. It wasn’t until she heard the small cough that Hermione noticed anything at all. Her head snapped up and almost immediately her eyes were captured by those tantalising blue eyes that she had missed so much. All thoughts of the case left her mind and she had to fight with herself to pull away from the intoxicating gaze of Narcissa Black. The cool feeling that she’d come to associate with the blonde witch brushed the edge of her mind and she hastily threw up her occlumency shields. She wasn’t sure she could cope with Narcissa in her head right now.

Narcissa felt the push back from Hermione’s mind like a slap in the face and found herself physically taking a step back from the witch in front of her. 

“What do you want Narcissa?” Hermione said with a sigh, she couldn’t muster up the energy to put any real bite in her words. “You’re free now. You don’t have to see or speak to me any more.”

“Hermione.” Narcissa took a seat opposite her at the desk. “I need to talk to you.” She tried to catch Hermione’s eye but Hermione was doing a bad impression of someone busy with work, staring at the parchment before her with quill in hand but not actually writing anything.

“I’m busy.” Hermione gestured at the parchment scattered over her desk, still not looking up. “If you have an issue for the Magical Restitution team then any one of the interns outside this office can help you. You don’t need me.”

Narcissa shot her hand out and grabbed the hand that was holding the quill. “But that’s exactly it, Hermione. I _do_ need you! I’ve never needed anyone in my life but by Salazar’s snake Hermione, I need you!”

Hermione gave in and let her gaze drift from the parchment in front of her to Narcissa’s hand holding hers, right the way up until she was looking at Narcissa’s earnest and sad expression. Even in the dim light of the office her eyes were bright and brilliant and filled with the need to express what could have been a thousand different things.

“You left.” Hermione said quietly, watching as Narcissa closed her eyes and a tear made its way slowly down her cheek.

“I have made many mistakes in my life. But that,” she opened her eyes again and looked directly at Hermione. “That was my most foolish mistake. I regretted my decision as soon as Mr Potter returned me to the Manor.”

“Why? Why did you leave?” Hermione’s voice croaked, her throat suddenly drying up upon hearing Narcissa’s words.

“Hermione, I was a fool. When we kissed… Gods, when we kissed it felt like I’d finally done something right! Like my whole world was suddenly complete. But then you got that letter and you left like someone had hit you with a stinging hex. I wasn’t sure if it was me or the letter so I… I looked. I looked at the letter and I saw those words that that  _ Weasley _ boy had written…” Her voice drifted off and she swiped away another tear. “I thought you didn’t want me…”

“Cissa…” Hermione was up and out of her chair before she really knew what she was doing. She raced round the side of her desk to kneel in front of Narcissa, reaching up to cup her face she pulled the other woman to her until their foreheads touched. Slowly, she lowered her occlumency shields and looked deep into Narcissa’s shimmering blue eyes. 

_ I want you Narcissa. I want you like I want the breath in my lungs. I don’t think there’s been a day since I first came to your Manor where I haven’t thought about you and wanted to see you again. Narcissa, I’ve been going mad these last few weeks thinking you didn’t want me.  _

She shifted slightly, eyes still locked with Narcissa as she pulled the witch closer to her, wanting as much contact as possible before allowing her eyelids to flutter shut and her lips to brush against Narcissa’s. It was quick and soft, barely there really, but it still caused Narcissa’s breath to shudder against Hermione’s lips. She had allowed her eyes to close at the touch and didn’t dare open them for fear that she was dreaming. Narcissa edged forward, arms looping around Hermione’s waist and pulling her closer. Her lips found Hermione’s and glided against them, her tongue slipping past them when they parted for her.

_ I want you _ . Narcissa’s thoughts drifted into Hermione’s mind as her hands ran up Hermione’s back, pulling her even closer so that she could deepen the kiss. Hermione all but had to climb into Narcissa’s lap to stop the chair from tipping (although she wasn’t sure that that wouldn’t happen anyway the way Narcissa was going). Narcissa moaned into the kiss as Hermione settled in her lap. This only seemed to spur Hermione on, her hands tangling into blonde hair and her teeth grazing Narcissa’s bottom lip. It took everything Narcissa had not to moan aloud again. Their tongues roved around each other's mouths, no real intent behind it other than to be closer to the other.

Hermione was the first to break the kiss, earning a small groan from Narcissa. The younger witch chuckled and laid her forehead against Narcissa’s, gazing deep into the blue eyes she loved so much. They sparkled back at her like the sea after a storm, little flecks of gold breaking through the blue, her pupils widening under Hermione’s gaze. The little lines at the corners of Narcissa’s eyes crinkled together as the woman smiled up at the witch above her. 

“Hmm… I could get used to this view.” she murmured, mouth quirking into a smile as she smoothed some loose strands of Hermione’s hair back from her face. 

“I dunno…” Hermione smiled back. “My view is pretty sweet too, you might want to try it some time.”

“Oh really?” Narcissa grinned mischievously before standing up quickly, holding Hermione to her with surprising strength and depositing her on the desk as the chair they’d been sitting on tipped back. Hermione squeaked with surprise and laughed as Narcissa began peppering her face with kisses. The blonde witch took the opportunity to tip Hermione back until she was lying atop the various bits of parchment, taking her turn to straddle the woman.

“You’re right. This view is delightful.” She trailed a hand down Hermione’s Ministry robes. “Shame about these though…” Her hand fiddled with the black material as though it was something she didn’t really want to handle. As she let go the robes disappeared entirely, leaving Hermione lying on the desk in a pair of smart black trousers and a thin white blouse. 

“Cissa!” Hermione squeaked with laughter before letting her mouth fall open. Her eyes were drawn down the length of Narcissa’s body, following the curves that her see-through black top and tight, green dragon skin trousers emphasised in a pleasing way. “Y-you weren’t wearing those clothes e-earlier, right?” she stammered up at the witch.

Narcissa smirked and leant forward, bracing herself with an arm on either side of Hermione’s head. She moved her head to the side so that she could kiss up along Hermione’s jawline until she reached her ear. She dragged her teeth lightly across Hermione’s ear lobe and chuckled low at the whimper it drew from Hermione. 

“Very astute of you, Ms Granger. I thought you might like me in this. You certainly seemed to last time…” She smiled against Hermione’s neck as she moved her way slowly downwards, kissing and sucking on the soft skin as she went.

Hermione’s head was filled with the memories of the last time she’d seen Narcissa in a similar outfit and couldn’t help but agree. She’d probably like her better in nothing, mind you but this was a tantalizing start…

The blonde witch nipped playfully at Hermione’s throat, pleased at the thoughts crossing Hermione’s mind. She was about to say she’d be happy to oblige when the door to the office swung open suddenly and she found herself being shoved forcefully off of Hermione by a surge of magic.

She landed on her ass with a thud that shuddered up her spine. Across the room stood the tall, lanky figure of Ron Weasley, wand arm outstretched and with a heaving chest. His eyes were wild, darting between Hermione on the desk and Narcissa on the floor.

“What the bloody hell is this?!” He yelled frantically at Hermione as though he hoped his eyes were deceiving him.

“Ron!” Hermione sat up quickly, the parchments sliding about beneath her so that she nearly slipped back onto the desk. The redhead rushed forward to assist her only to get knocked back by a foot in the face as Hermione squirmed to sit upright. Had it been any other moment Narcissa might have laughed at the scene but as it was she was enraged that an enjoyable moment had yet again been interrupted by Ronald  _ Bloody _ Weasley. She was up and marching towards him before he could stand upright himself. Gripping him by the collar of his shirt she hauled him up and slammed him into the wall of the office, wand against his throat.

“What do you want?” she growled through bared teeth, digging the point of her wand into his neck.

“Gerroff!” he said, struggling against her grip and looking over her shoulder to Hermione. “‘Mione, get this evil bint off of me!” His hands scrabbled at his side searching for his wand but he had dropped it when Hermione had kicked him and his wand now rested under the toe of Narcissa’s heels.

“Ron, what are you doing here?!” Hermione asked, managing this time to get off the desk and make her way across to the grappling pair. “Cissa, let him go...” She laid her hand on Narcissa’s shoulder which seemed to calm the woman enough to loosen her hold on Ron.

Ron shrugged and tried to straighten his shirt a bit but it remained rumpled and out of place. “Are you okay, ‘Mione?” he said, trying to shuffle past Narcissa (though the witch was having none of it). “Did she hurt you?”

“What?!” Hermione shook her head. “No! Of course not, Narcissa would never hurt me!”

“Then why was she on top of you, huh? It looked like she was trying to strangle you or something!” Ron turned his attention to the blonde. “You leave her alone, alright?! I’m on to you,  _ Malfoy _ !” He spat out the last word, levelling a look of disgust at her even as she towered over him, eyes sparking with rage.

“Just say the word, Hermione, and I’ll teach him what that slug eating spell is  _ meant _ to look like.”

Ron’s face reddened almost immediately at the jibe. He sputtered at the pair of them. “You told her about that?!”

Narcissa rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “My  _ son _ told me about that, you dimwit.”

“Ron,” Hermione took over, sensing the situation was precariously close to boiling over. “Maybe it’s best you leave, okay?”

“But… she was… on top of you.”

“Yes I’m very aware of where Narcissa was. Now off you go, I’m sure Harry has something you could be doing.”

Ron didn’t move. The colour slowly drained from his face until he was whiter than Nearly Headless Nick. “She… was on top of you. And you’re… you’re alright with that.”

Narcissa threw her hands up in the air and walked away from him, too frustrated to be near him, lest she vent her fury on the ginger idiot. 

“Ron,” Hermione said softly and slowly. “It’s time you left now…”

He nodded dumbly and turned to leave, pausing only to pull a piece of parchment out and offer it to Hermione. “I've got to head, there's something happening in Wales…" his voice drifted off and it took him a moment to remember what he'd come up there for in the first place. "Luna asked me to bring this to you. I uh, I’ll leave you to… whatever this is.” He gestured between the two witches and left quickly, the tips of his ears turning red.

Hermione closed the door behind him and leant against it heavily. The note shook in her hands and she let out a nervous laugh which had Narcissa by her side in an instant. She took the note out of her hands and tossed it towards the desk, cupping Hermione’s face with her other hand, brushing her cheek in slow strokes with her thumb.

“Are you okay?” she murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of Hermione’s head.

The brunette exhaled loudly and wrapped her arms around Narcissa’s waist, pulling her closer and burying her head in the crook of Narcissa’s neck. She breathed in deeply, catching the familiar scent of vanilla and the light smell of freshly mown grass. She had always loved how her small flat had smelled after Narcissa had gotten out of the shower but she’d never quite figured out that it was actually the smell of Narcissa that she was in love with. It relaxed her, made her feel safe, safer than she’d ever felt in her life. 

“Hermione?” Narcissa’s concerned voice interrupted her reverie. She looked up and saw Narcissa’s face crinkling with worry. “Are you okay?”

She nodded and gave the woman a smile before pulling her in for a slow, languid kiss. Narcissa leant into it, pinning Hermione against the door, shifting so that her leg could slip between Hermione’s. The brunette moaned with relief at having something to grind down on at last, feeling warmth pooling between her legs as the kiss grew firmer and more urgent. Her hands found the bottom of Narcissa’s top and slid up under the fabric, causing Narcissa to shudder against her.

“Hmm…” Narcissa purred into the kiss and pulled back, observing Hermione with hooded eyes. “I think it might be best if we took this somewhere a little more private, don’t you?”

Hermione merely kissed her in response, pushing off the door and walking Narcissa backwards towards the fireplace. She fumbled for the box that contained the Floo powder and threw a handful into the flames. “Home!” she gasped, walking Narcissa into the flames with another fevered kiss, her arms wrapped tightly around her waist as they spun through the Floo network. As soon as they came to a stop Hermione was urging Narcissa backwards again, out of the fireplace and half way across the living room before Narcissa quite knew what was going on. Hermione was kissing her open mouthed now, her tongue sliding alongside Narcissa’s, her hand trailing up and down Narcissa’s back even as she walked her through the flat.

As they entered the hall Narcissa took the opportunity to take the lead, spinning Hermione round and pushing her up against the wall. She tore her mouth away from Hermione’s and moved to the bare expanse of neck, pressing firm, insistent kisses along the soft skin. 

“You’re driving me crazy, kissing me like that.” Hermione gasped breathlessly as Narcissa unbuttoned the top button of Hermione’s blouse so she could kiss along her collarbone too.

“Good.” Narcissa replied with a smirk, flicking her tongue against Hermione’s skin. “You’ve been driving me crazy for months now.” Her hand drifted lazily down Hermione’s side, caressing the curves and tantalising the senses. Cool fingers brushed at the waistband of Hermione’s trousers, teasing the sensitive skin there. Hermione squirmed at the touch but made no other protest except to demand Narcissa’s lips return to hers where she could drag her teeth over Narcissa’s already swollen bottom lip.

When they broke apart it was only to gaze lustily at each other for a moment and then fumble their way into the bedroom at last. Narcissa took charge this time, giving Hermione a playful shove on to the soft mattress and crawling on top of her with a seductive slowness. She tugged at Hermione’s blouse. “When is this coming off?” she whispered huskily.

“Whenever you wa-” Hermione didn’t even get to finish talking before the garment was banished from sight. Her trousers quickly followed suit and she squirmed under Narcissa’s roving gaze as she took in the view of Hermione in nothing but her underwear. 

The brunette would have protested but Narcissa was making her way down her torso to the swell of her breasts, grazing the soft flesh ever so slightly with her teeth, turning the pale skin a delicate shade of pink as she went. Narcissa cupped Hermione’s left breast, lazily circling a hard nipple through the fabric of the bra with her thumb. Beneath her Hermione whimpered, eyes fixed on Narcissa’s face as she looked up from her position. The blonde was staring up at her with those piercing blue eyes that had followed her in her dreams for weeks, months now.

Narcissa raised a questioning eyebrow and Hermione nodded, not quite sure what she was agreeing to but she trusted Narcissa implicitly. Her nod was met with a wicked grin and the last of Hermione’s clothing was gone, leaving Narcissa free to envelope a nipple with her warm, wet mouth. She sucked experimentally and was rewarded with a groan of pleasure from the witch beneath her. Spurred on she made some fast laps of the hard point with her tongue and then sucked again, this time for longer and with a nibble of teeth. Hermione twitched beneath her so she took this as a sign to do the same with the other nipple, switching sides and making sure to continue stimulating the other with her hand, squeezing lightly.

Hermione’s breath grew ragged and she ached for Narcissa to relieve the pressure that was building between her legs. Maybe her thoughts were loud or maybe Narcissa was just exceptionally good at reading her body; but she made her way down the length of Hermione’s body only a moment later, leaving a trail of hot promising kisses down her abdomen. Her hands slid over trembling thighs, easing them apart so that she could kiss first up one side and then down the other. Above her she could hear Hermione whimpering “Narcissa… fuck… please…”

She nuzzled at the mound of soft, tight curls and flicked her tongue quickly across Hermione’s already slick clit. The woman shuddered and cried out, hands fisting in the bed covers either side of her. Narcissa smiled and took a slow lick up the length of Hermione’s wetness, savouring the taste of the woman she’d wanted to do this to for so long.

“Cissa, if you go any slower I might die.”

Narcissa smirked against Hermione’s clit and slid a finger, followed quickly by a second into the wet folds and pumped them in and out a few times before sucking at the taut bundle of nerves. She could already sense Hermione was rapidly approaching the cliff edge.

“Fuuuuuck…”

The cool fingers curled inside the brunette witch, caressing that sweet spot and prompting another long moan. Narcissa lapped again at the slick folds before sliding up the length of Hermione, fingers still working inside, and kissed her with an open mouth, letting the brunette taste herself as she brought her over the edge. The heel of her hand provided the needed pressure for that final release and Hermione came, hard and loud, for the blonde above her.

Narcissa kept her fingers moving in and out, slowing the pace ever so slightly to guide her through the aftershocks of the orgasm. She kissed the woman beneath her slowly now, taking time to savour every ounce of the pleasure she had gained from finally claiming Hermione as her own.

The brunette panted between the soft kisses, eyelids fluttering closed momentarily, enjoying the warm glow that was seeping through her every fiber. After a minute or so she made to roll over, intent on returning the favour only to find that Narcissa’s eyes were wide and darting about the room as though following something. 

She turned her head and had to stifle a gasp when she saw the shimmering white hare of Luna’s Patronus hopping agitatedly across the room.

"Hermione!" Luna’s agitated lilt sounded round the room. "We have a Code Purple in Aberystwyth! Priority level 7. Bring Narcissa."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thoroughly expect to be shouted at in the comments for that ending but that's okay because I'm going to be disappearing for a month so yeah, shout away, I promise I'll be back with the next instalment of the series (the title of which is TBD).
> 
> But yeah, this has been a wild ride from start to finish and I'm just so amazed an thankful that you've all stuck with it, dealt with my disappearances, and generally encouraged me to keep going. You're all wonderful. Feel free to leave me a comment, let me know if there's anything I can do better next time, shout at me for cliffhangering you... Y'know, the usual.
> 
> And last (but by no means least) I have to give a big thanks, as always, to Yanana for bullying me into writing and keeping me sane when I was determined to drive myself mad. I hope you enjoyed the smut. If any of y'all are needing a Cissamione or Bellamione fix you should absolutely read Yanana's fics (The Atonement series is perfection). They will keep you warm on the cold, cold winter nights.
> 
> Bet_on_Black


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